


The Art of Living

by Kiterou



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Hogwarts Fourth Year, Martial Arts, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Runaway Harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2018-12-02 02:42:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11500098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiterou/pseuds/Kiterou
Summary: Four years after leaving Harry in the care of the Dursleys, Albus Dumbledore suspects that this might have been a big mistake. Mostly because they have lost the boy of five while traveling to China. Nine years later, he gets the first clue where the boy could be found, when a fourth school is named in the Triwizard Tournament, with Harry as their champion. AU. No pairings yet.Warnings: Mention of Abuse (past), Cussing [Rated Mature to be safe]I concentrate mainly on my other story, this one will only get updated every once in a while. Semi-Hiatus.





	1. Prologue 1 - A Tiny Detail Called 'Boy'

**Author's Note:**

> "Normal conversations in english."  
> " _Normal conversations in chinese_ "  
> " _ **Conversations in parseltongue**_ "
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** Harry Potter does not belong to me. Nor anything else of this franchise.
> 
> This work is mainly a way for me to improve my english, as well as venting some ideas out of my head that had lingered there for a good time. While english is not my mother tongue, I greatly enjoy to watch and read the wide variety of entertainment in that language. As an exercise to improve my written english, I started writing short stories. It is very different from talking the language and is proving to be rather challenging.
> 
> If there is a person out there who is confident in his or her skills, I would love to ask you to beta my work. Especially because I always mix up british and american english.
> 
>  
> 
> **The prologues are meant to be very short.**
> 
>  
> 
> Harry will be different from the books. His upbringings will change his personality quite a bit. I will try to keep some traits, though.  
> As for pairings, I have not planned any as Harry will be around 14-15 when the story starts. There will be some interests in both men and women, for he is a healthy teen, but I won't start anything serious until he turns 16.

Vernon Dursley considered himself a very lucky man. Married to a woman he considered beautiful, being the proud father of a healthy son, working for a company that valued men like him. He had a house and he was able to provide for his loving family. Yes, he was lucky indeed, if it wasn’t for one tiny detail.  
„We can hardly take him with us, Pet“, he again tried to argue with his wife. They sat in the living room of Number 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging. His little son, god bless him, sat on the floor in front of the television, cheering for the cartoonish heroes of his favorite show of the month. He was eyeing him for a while, feeling his chest swell with fatherly pride.  
„We can’t give him to Miss Figg this time, dear. And noone else wants to put up with him“, Petunia answered sharply, almost accusing. Not that she put any fault for that onto her husband – she eyed the little, white door that was barely visible from her place. It belonged to the cupboard under the stairs that led up to both the master bedroom and the two smaller bedrooms of the house, the latter both occupied by her little blond angel. „So we have to. Can’t let him stay here for a week now, can we?“  
Vernon sighed. He knew they could not, who knows what the little brat would do to his property? „I swear the moment he can work I will make him pay us back…“, he muttered under his breath as to not upset his son, Dudley.  
„I will go and call the travel agency for an additional ticket. He can just sleep on the couch or the floor in the hotel room. As for the tours, I don’t see why he can’t stay there and do his usual chores.“  
Vernon just nodded and took in some breath. His mood grew darker, thinking about the boy in question – his nephew was yet again a bigger problem than he had ever thought that blasted night four years ago. That night when he and Petunia decided to try and put up with the son of his freakish sister-in-law and her useless husband. But he would never blame Pet for this. Instead, he blamed his nephew.  
„BOY!“, he yelled, and watched with some satisfaction how the tiny child came out of the cupboard. Messy, black hair framed a pale face. The boy squinted his emerald green eyes slightly, readjusting them to the brightly lit room before stepping closer. Vernon noticed the wary way the brat behaved, and anger rose in him. Couldn’t he be a little bit more thankful? A little bit more like his own son? Surely, after four years, he could be a little bit more… normal?  
„Yes, uncl‘ Vern‘?“ Big, green eyes starred up to him. About the only thing big on the shrimp. Vernon snorted, before trying to ease his temper. It would do no good to raise his hand in front of Dudley. Also, until now the boy had shown no sign of the freakishness of his damned parents. Yet he could not bring himself to really care for his nephew. Not with all the reminders of his looks or this unnatural scar prominent on his forehead.  
„Go and fetch me some snack, and something for Dudley. There is also a new list of chores for the next two weeks.“ He paused and watched the boy as he ran towards the kitchen. The clothes were far too big, but Vernon saw no fault in that. Dudley had fit in them perfectly, they were obviously good enough for the brat anyways. Listening to the soft noises from the kitchen, he huffed a little. He could hear Petunias complains when the boy asked for her help, remembering him to go and get a small stool for the brat to use. Can’t have him get used to always depend on us, he thought grimmly.  
He didn’t have to wait for long until the boy returned, hands busy with two plates, the little face scrunched in concentration to not drop any of the little sandwiches he had made for his uncle and cousin.  
„Here, uncl‘ Vern‘.“ The man just waved his hand and watched the runt on his way to Dudley. He grinned when his son grabbed the food and shoved his cousin away. Strong little thing. Way stronger than the boy, anyways.  
„Come here, now“, he ordered. He had made sure the boy always followed the orders of his family, and was mostly satisfied with his work. He hardly had to beat him anymore. Maybe that had done the trick, maybe that was the reason the runt had shown no sign of his parents disgusting secret. He may not care for this boy, but he could raise him to a proper human being at least.  
„Your Aunt and me have a surprise for you“, he started with a drawl. Green eyes grew huge, and a hint of wonder mingled with the wary look. „You know we planned our yearly holidays, yet Miss Figg can’t take you in this year.“ The boys breath hitched slightly. Vernon frowned, but he could see Petunia now in the door, watching him closely. „So we are going to bring you with us. BUT!“ He had to yell now, because both his nephew and son made some rather loud noises. Mainly his son – the blonde had turned on his bum to complain in his boyish, high pitched voice about how unfair it was, while his nephew nearly hyperventilated for whatever reason. „You have to do ALL your chores, and I better hear of no problems, understood?“  
„Yes, uncl‘ Vern‘“, the boy breathed. Petunia had rushed towards her son to calm him, poor angel, so Vernon had an easier time to understand the timid reply. „Thanks, uncl‘ Vern‘!“  
„Good. Then go and do not trouble us further“, he muttered and eyed his wife and son. He just hoped there would be no problems – he hated to agitate his precious son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Words:** 1018


	2. Prologue 2 - In Which Someone Got Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Normal conversations in english."  
> " _Normal conversations in chinese_ "  
> " _ **Conversations in parseltongue**_ "
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** Harry Potter does not belong to me. Nor anything else of this franchise.

It would have been an understatemend to say that Vernon Dursley was a stressed out man. Not only did he have to book another plane ticket for the boy on short notice (re: high costs), he also had to adjust the lodgings he had arranged as he could hardly keep the little brat in a cupboard overseas. But the real headache came at the day of their departure. The damned boy had been at his best behaviour the last couple of weeks, managing each and every chore he and Petunia thought of - cleaning, weeding, even cooking! Not that Vernon could leave him well behind while travelling with his proper family, but he had looked forward to relieve his stress onto the usual target and was thus unable to. That meant, however, that his usual short fuse was essentially nonexistend when Dudley chose to be overly moody on the trip to the far east, enough so that even the usual sweets and gifts could not prevent one tantrum after another.  
Worse still was how his nephew, the brat, had reacted at the airport. After spending a good amount of money, he had wrangled a kids passport out of the slowmoving government. He had not thought, however, to sit the boy down and educate him on his own name, something he never thought about as he always called him 'boy' or 'freak'. The boys reaction when he learned that he had a name ("Harry? That's _me_?") had attracted a whole lot of unwanted attention from other passengers at the luggage registration, and he had to pull a positively vibrating 5-years old from the counter when the brat tried to get a good look at his passport.  
By the time they arrived in their hotel rooms in Wuhan, province Hubei, not one of the Dursleys really felt like sight seeing. Petunia was pale from exhaustion, Dudley cranky and sleepy from crying, and Vernon on the other side of rage. His nephew, on the other hand, was delirious with delight - he had sat well behind the Dursleys on the big plane, oblivious to the ordeal his aunt and uncle had with their own son. He had a wonderful meal, was allowed to drink all the soft drinks he wanted, could sleep on a warm and soft surface and the nice woman even switched places with him, so that he could watch the clouds out of a tiny window. But the best thing of all was the discovery of his name. His! His very own name. He had vagually known that he had one, of course, but questions where discouraged at the Dursley household, and after a nasty cuff from Petunia he had not tried to gather more information regarding his name. He had, however, always hoped that he would one day get to know it. At least at school, but that was still another daunting year in the future. Who had thought he would find out so early? Who had thought it would be a fine name like Harry? Sadly, he was unable to read the rest of it - there was a second name, something with a J, but his uncle had pulled him off the passport fast enough. But it was enough for now - Harry was enough, and surley he would learn the rest of it later.  
While the boy was musing about the wonders of having a name that wasn't an insult, he swiftly carried the luggage in the different rooms. The Dursleys were not overly rich, but well off for a middle standing family, and Vernon loved to indulge his wife and son. There was a room with a big double bed, all bright colours and modern chinese furniture. A bathroom and a smallish closet were joined to it. A second, smaller bedroom was to be Dudleys - he had no own bathroom, but it was nice nonetheless. Harry was to sleep on the big couch in the living room, and he found a thick blanket and soft pillows in a chest next to it. He wanted to explore more, especially the smallish kitchen corner (something told him that even here he would have to make some sorts of breakfast for his family), but he had enough sense to finish unpacking his relatives luggage first, lest he angered his uncle even more.  
Duo to their flight, and to Harrys great pleasure, the Dursleys went to bed rather early that day. The next morning was, however, equally subdued as the last afternoon, and Vernon had to persuade both Petunia and a still pouting Dudley for an outing to visit the city for breakfast and shopping. Harry was left with some stale sandwiches, and the following days past in equal fashion, though the mood swiftly lifted after the first two nights. Even Petunia, who had never left England, was gushing how nice the city was, and sometimes even Harry got in touch with the unusual, foreign cuisine and decided that he liked it a lot.

Roughly a week into the holidays, one of Vernons chinese buisness partners, a guy named Shan Li, invited the whole family to a little festival. He had somehow known of the nephews existence, and Vernon was thus forced to bring Harry with him - duo to a lack of nice clothing, Petunia was send off to find some cheap, but new and _fitting_ things - at that point Harry thought he died and landed in some sort of strange heaven, with all the food and the couch and his little, new trainers and slacks and shirt.

"Boy", Vernon declared at least, an hour before they were to leave the hotel and meet up with Shan and his own family. "Listen, now. I won't stand for any unusual buisness or freakish happenings, so you better behave." His normal speech was somewhat muted, as the boy has been the picture of goodness at the entire trip, and it had been a while since something freakish had occured. He was still stern and suspicious however, and glared down at his beaming nephew. "Stop grinning, brat!", he barked, and felt at least a bit better after venting off on the boy after the brat had stopped smiling so brightly. "You will be silent until spoken to. You will not whinge and always stay near your aunt. You will not pester us or Mister Li or his family. You will not run off. You will not bother us. Understood?"

Harry obediently nodded, and with that said, the Dursleys soon emerged with the boy in tow. He had a hard time honoring the rules his Uncle had laid out - a lot of things bothered the Dursleys, at least when Harry was the one doing them, and they were easily offended. But there was just so much to see! His small legs had to work hard to keep up with his Aunt, who carried his heavy cousin, and he nearly got himself a whiplash, he turned his head so fast to get a good look at... well, _everything_. Some minor festival was held in Wuhan, and the streets were decorated with flowers and festoons and bright and colourful lanterns. Even his spoiled cousin was awed, but mostly at the display of the many little food stalls. Kids with masks on ran around through the mass of people, and a throng of traditionally clad dancers and musicians wandered around.

They found Shan Li and his family at the meeting point - they were to observe the festival from the balcony of a fancy restaurant and join the festivities somewhat later, so that the kids could play some of the games set up between the stalls filled with sweets and masks and fans. Harry was torn between delight and anxiety, having never felt so overwhelmed. Dudley had been slowly introduced into this foreign culture for the past few days, and the adults dealt with this a whole lot better, but the small boy could not deal with all those new and exciting things - or with the strangers waiting for them and smiling and bowing. Mister Li had brought his wife and his two sons, both older than Dudley and himself, who were very curious of the english boys. Harry scurried behind Petunia and recieved a glare from her,but the Li's took it for shyness and did not mention it further.  
The dinner went well enough, despite Harrys confusion that he was allowed to join the Dursleys and Lis at the table. Vernon explained to Mister and Misses Li that he was a troubled child duo to the deaths of his parents, and Misses Li cooed over him until the food arrived. Soon after the starters, fireworks where lit on the streets, appropriately awing the British family. Mister Li seemed very proud of the reactions, and invited the children for a second helping of deserts that Dudley eagerly accepted and left Harry bewildered that the stranger showed such kindness towards him. When they gathered their things, Vernon was somewhat glad that the dinner was over - his quick lie about the boys behaviour could not mask all the signs of freakiness, and he was wary that after a week of good behaviour it would soon catch up. He noticed how bemused Harry was, and glared at him when Mister Li was paying for their meal, but had to delay a proper tirade until they were back at the hotel.

"Well, let's get going, shall we?" Shan Li was eager to show the brits more of the festival. As a local, he was very proud of his city, and pleased that he had the opportunity to show his buisness partner the relicts and wooden statues that where carried through the streets. Petunia eyed her son warily, but he seemed fine enough to walk for a bit after the meal (mostly because he saw all the stalls and stands displaying sweets and games), and the Li kids were used to the rucus the festival was creating. She paid no mind to Harry however, who soon felt tired after all the food he got. His little legs made it hard to keep up with the adults, but when he tried to hold onto his aunt, she simply shrugged him off.

It happened when Dudley and the other boys ran towards some brightly lit stalls. Vernon and Mister Li were talking about work and the companies they worked in, while Petunia and Misses Li tried to follow their charges through the growing crowd. More firework went off, startling Harry, and a large group of loud teenagers walked between him and aunt Petunia. His breath hitched as he lost sight of his relatives and he tried to get through the people, but soon found himself lost in the chaos. All around him people cheered for the fireworks and the dancers nearby, and the small boy could not find his aunt or his uncle again. The thought of an enraged Vernon was enough to make Harry panic, and he started to run as fast as he could without bumping into strangers. He did, however, not yell for the others - he already broke a rule or two, by getting separated, but he was not to bother his uncle, and he would get it really bad when he broke another rule.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Words:** 1893


	3. Prologue 3 - And Who Might You Be?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Normal conversations in english."  
> " _Normal conversations in chinese_ "  
> " _ **Conversations in parseltongue**_ "
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** Harry Potter does not belong to me. Nor anything else of this franchise.

Vernon was seething. It was a good thing (or maybe a very bad one) that Mister and Misses Li were oblivious to that fact, and mistook his expression for worry. "He surely will be found soon, Mister Dursley", the man tried to 'sooth' him, while his wife was rapidly talking to the police men who have been called after one of Mister Lis son had noticed Harrys absence. Petunia stood a bit farther away, holding tight on Dudley. She was not worried about her nephew, but about her reputation if the brat was not found soon, and about what her precious son could say. She had barely prevented Dudley from telling the other boys that the 'Freak' wasn't important enough to make such a fuss, and now the large blonde was munching happily on some sweets she had bought him.  
"I hope so", Vernon pressed between gritted teeth and tried to calm himself, but he was never good at reigning in his temper. His mustache flared slightly, and his small eyes moved rapidly from left to right as he scanned the crowd that was still walking the streets of Wuhan. _Curse him_ , he thought, _leave it to that freak to spoil our evening!_

Meanwhile, Harrys feet hat brought him a few streets away from the group. Sometimes, he thought that one of the adults around him tried to talk to him, but every time he could not understand a word, and his chest was tight with worry until he bolted away from any stranger that so much as looked at him. His legs hurt, he was tired, and it rapidly grew colder. He had no doubt that he would receive the thrashing of his lifetime, should he find his way back to his uncle - a sad statement as his whole lifetime were 5 meager years, and yet he knew very well of proper thrashings. Of course he did - he was perhaps the worst boy in the whole world, if half of what his aunt and uncle said was true. Not that he _wanted_ to be bad - it just kind of happened, like him being lost, even when he tried not to be. It never seemed to be enough, though, and the last week had been so wonderful, but now it was all over, and he would never, ever again have a vacation with his relatives _again_!  
Tears pricked his eyes, and he hastily rubbed them away. In his musings, he had not noticed where he went, and found himself at the outskirts of the festival. The street he now faced was not decorated, and the only people milling around were probably heading home. He turned around to go back, but he was not keen to do so - the festival had been beatiful to watch from the balcony of the restaurant, but the large crowd and the loud noises have been very taxing on him, and he was loath to return to it.  
He noticed the men before they saw him - Harry did not know that his uncles friend had asked the officers that guarded the parade to look for him, and was cautious when he saw the uniforms. His aunt loved to tell him how bad boys were given to the police and the orphanage, and how horrible that was. All those stories now came back to the forefront of Harrys mind, and he staggered back a few steps just as one of the officers started to call for him in chinese. The little boy let out a startled sob and hastily turned around, running as fast as he could.  
"Wait!" The english word was horribly pronounced, and the strange accent only threw the boy off even more. Harry could hear the footsteps of the officers behind him, but he was in lead by a few dozen meters and quickly scampered around a corner into a smaller alley. Next he turned left, then right, but soon he came to a dead end. Tired and exhausted, he could no longer hold of his tears - he heard the officers voices coming closer, and in his desperation he huddled behind a small stack of empty cardboards, hugging his bony knees tight to his body. He shut his eyes, trying not to sob, and the tight feeling in his chest grew and grew, and he could hear the footsteps of the policemen, and he dreaded them, and dreaded the thrashing he would receive for getting lost, and surely his uncle will give him to an orphanage, and the closer the steps came, the more Harry wished himself to be far, far away.

When the policemen searched the little alley, they found no boy in hiding, and continued their search for the missing british boy.

~~~

Far, far away, in the province Henan, a crack disturbed the peaceful silence. After the horrible feeling of being sucked into a rubber straw stopped, Harry found himself freezing in the crisp, cold night air of Song Shan - not that he knew. All he could see was darkness and sharp shadows and the light of the moon and the star far above him. It was a beautiful sight, but the little boy could not appreciate it. He was in a right shock. Oh, his uncle would kill him! Of all the stupid things to do, the 'freakish stuff' was the absolute worst. But he had been just too afraid, and most times he would be freaky while being afraid - like when his uncle and aunt where screaming at him, or when he had these horrible nightmares and his cupboard was too small and too dark and too lonely to handle it, or when the thunder came... or when he was chased by strange police officers, who would take him to the dreaded orphanage for being such a bad, bad boy.  
And now he was here and did not know _where_ , and he was all alone and it was hard to breath. Harry was just too tired and afraid and stressed, and started to cry in earnest. He was no baby, and only babies cried, but right now he had no strength left to fight the tears and muffled sobs that escaped him. Through his shivering and sobbing he did not hear the footsteps, but he felt the warm hand on his shoulder and flinched, startled at the unfamiliar feeling of someone actually touching him without hurting. He scurried away from the hand, looking up to see who it was. His big, green eyes were blurried from the tears, but he could see a round, friendly face of a middle aged, bald man.

"And who might you be, child?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Words:** 1115


	4. Prologue 4 - This Is Not My Cupboard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Normal conversations in english."  
> " _Normal conversations in chinese_ "  
> " _ **Conversations in parseltongue**_ "
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** Harry Potter does not belong to me. Nor anything else of this franchise.
> 
> A friend of mine is learning chinese. She helps me with some names and phrases in this story. Most times I will indicate spoken chinese with italics.

High up the mountain of Song Shan, one of the five holy mountains in China, lies the ancient temple of Qíjī Zhī Jiā, home of a small number of monks and a school for gifted children. Craddled between the sharp edges of the mountain, a conglomerate of smallish buildings made out of stone and wood surounded a rather beautiful old tempel with dark green glazed ceramic shingles and wooden dragon figurines painted in gold. The walls of the buildings were decorated with petite carvings of fighting monks, fantastic beasts, complicated seals and fragile flowers. Door and window frames were crafted out of dark wood, and between and around the complex gorgeous, ancient plum trees grew.  
It was early in the morning - the sun had yet to rise high enough to directly warm this side of the mountain, but it was bright enough for the little creeks to sparkle gently. A group of children, maybe two dozen, between the tender age of six and twelve, went through slow and precise exercises. They all were clad in the same, sand coloured uniform - wide, sturdy trousers, tightly bound with white braces from the knees down; a pair of light woolen slippers and a shirt of an airy fabric that roughly reached the knees. It was cut on the sides so it would not hinder any movements, and the sleeves only covered half of the forearm and were rather wide. All of them had a belt made out of sturdy fabric, but they were not coloured the same - the smaller children had darker colours, browns and blues, the older childrens belts were brighter with greens and yellows mixed in.

The drill ground was in front of the main building of the temple. Two monks looked after the group, while another one, a middle-aged male with a round, friendly face, rushed out of the temple and towards one of the smaller houses. His outfit was a darker shade of fawn, with a nice, dark red belt and black slippers, and while the children, boy or girl, had their hair cut short, he and the other visible adults were bald.

" _How is he?_ ", the monk asked the moment he entered the small building. It was one of the homes for the adults, sparingly decorated and furnished. A young man, not quite yet behind more boyish years, sat at a small desk and paused in his writings.  
" _He is not awake yet, but he stirred quite a bit. Nightmares, I drew the Eye on the wall._ " The young man smiled and pointed towards the simple bed on the other side of the room. The small form of a boy rested under a heavy blanked, and above his head was a little drawing, a set of four symbols, arranged in the stylized form of an eye. " _He got better afterwards._ "  
The monk nodded and walked towards the bed and the boy, and the young man continued to write in his booklet.

~~~

The tea they have given him was hot and sweet, but behind the sweetness of the added honey the greenish liquid had a bitter aftertaste. Harry thought it delicious, as well as the simple broth and the flat bread he was given. A thick blanket covered him, as well as crisp, fresh clothing - a weird outfit with wide pants and a shirt that reached his knees, with broad sleeves. A sturdy belt made off woolen fabric held everything together, as the clothing was a tad too big for him, but Harry found he did not mind that at all. The morning had been more than just confusing - the little boy had another panic attack when he woke up not in the hotel room of his aunt and uncle, or in his cupboard back home in Surrey, but in a strangers bed, in a strangers house, and with the stranger standing there and actually _smiling_ at him.  
Minh, as was the monks name, had to reassure him for almost half an hour that it was _okay_ for Harry to sleep in that bed, because it was Minhs, and he had lend it to him for the night. Than he had to sooth the boy for another hour for Harry to get bathed and redressed in his new clothing, and now he sat on a soft pillow on the floor in front of a teeny tiny wooden table. The table itself was not bigger than a tray, and had the perfect hight to eat from when sitting on the floor. Minh and Yuen, the young man that was not a monk, had their own tiny tables.  
They really were nice, these tables - all shiny, black lacquer, with small handles on both sizes. The bowl of the broth was nice, too, like used up, pale green at the top and brownish at the bottom and a faded golden rim at the bowls edge...

"So you see, you don't have to worry, child. We will speak with grandmaster Shen Yi after breakfast, and he will know for sure how to find your family, yes? And while we wait for him to do that, you can stay here. See, this is actually a school for young ones to learn, and there are a lot of children here and some are your age, so you won't feel lonely." Minhs voice, nice and deep and with his funny accent, brought Harry back from his musings. The small boy looked up under his messy fringe, eyes big and nervous, and he soothed himself with a sip from the tea. Truth to be told, he did not want this grandmaster Shen to find his relatives ever, because he had been gone for a whole night, and uncle Vernon would be in a right fit. And that was no good, Harry decided silently. Also, he kind of liked the monk with his open and friendly face, his dark eyes and wrinkles around his them. Aunt Petunia had a lot of wrinkles around her lips and between her brows from frowning so much, but Minh had his wrinkles from laughing and smiling.  
His stomach was churning, because as soon as this grandmaster has found his family, the nice man would see that Harry was not like other children, and the boy dreaded that - adults and kids alike always reacted badly when his aunt and uncle told them what a freak he was.

Minh and Yuen changed a look with each other. For both it was quite clear that the shy young boy Minh had found near the hidden entrance to the temple was still unhappy. And it was an unhappiness that spoke of nothing good. They knew, because there had been other hints throughout the whole morning. When a boy of five worked himself in a panic because he was 'not allowed on a bed' and 'had to get to his cupboard', then the monk and the student took that serious. And when Yuen later saw some very telling marks on Harrys shoulders and his back, and faded bruises on his upper arms, then they took it very serious.  
They did not ask Harry about those marks. The poor child was distressed enough. They also did not tell him how he had appeared here - Minh had heard the telltale crack of apparition from afar. But the fact that he was a foreigner made things more difficult for them. Had he been a local, they would try to find his family themselves and looked into getting them to sign him over. They were prepared for children living in the temple, as it was one of many insular schools in China for young wizards and witches to learn magic. But Harry was not from here. Even though the boy had said next to nothing after calming down somewhat, he had heard enough to deduce that the boy came from England, and the system there was not the same. Minh was not sure, but he had heard that in Europe, children started very late with their education, but with wandlore most things were much easier than with seals and stances. The problem was that with Harry being from abroad, they had to search for his family for a certain amount of time, and with a certain amount of dedication.  
Not that the boy was very forthcoming or helpful in that matter - he had yet to give Minh and Yuen his name, and both were glad about that, as it would make things very, very difficult to locate the boys parents.

~~~

" _There are no tourists missing in Henan_ ", the ancient man dryly said. Not that Harry understood him - he was sitting on the floor, in his hands a wooden horse. The man, Shen Yi, had given him the toy with a smile before rapidly talking to Minh in his common language. At one point, he had pulled out some dusty glass globes from a cabinet and stared into them for nearly ten minutes. He was now putting them away again, wrinkling his nose in distaste. " _I don't see why we can't just keep him. He is old enough for training, and his family was not fit to raise one of us, when you tell the truth about his behaviour and his marks._ " He watched the boy, who sat very still on his place, holding onto the toy as if he held a fragile gem. " _Tell the other schools to listen to the mundanes, but make it difficult._ "  
" _Master Yi, we can't just keep onto him_ ", Minh protested. It was always the same with the old man - he would take in all the little boys and girls that were born to mundanes if he could. It dependet on the province and the schools if the parents were ever told about the magic in their world, and Shen Yi often found them too lacking. " _We have to at least make an effort to find his parents. And if they are as ill-fitted as it seems, we will inform their government._ "

The grandmaster gave his faithful monk a look. " _Then make an effort. For a year and a day, if you like._ " He seemed very sure that he would still get to keep the boy, and Minh didn't mind that at all. " _Anything else, Master?_ ", he asked pointedly, while walking towards Harry and picking the boy up from the floor. The child flinched slightly, but soon settled against the friendly monk, looking back and forth with some confusion on his little face.  
" _Get him to healer Han. When he is still here in three days time, we will start with his training, but you can teach him our language if you like._ " His smile became broader when Minh carried their newest student out of his office. He was quite sure that the boy would stay. Schooling in China was a lengthy progress, and the country had no cohorent government. There was no cooperation between the mundanes government and the different schools of magic, either. The boy had transported himself somewhere absolutely safe, and quite a feat that was, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Words:** 1856
> 
> **EDIT: Shen Yi is better off not knowing who Harry is right now. Love, Kiterou.**
> 
>  
> 
> When I decided on the name for our grandmaster Shen Yi, I did not foresee how it looks like with the prefix 'Master'. After laughing for a few seconds, I just left it like that.
> 
> Minh, Yuen and Shen Yi will be three of four main characters from the temple, so I chose some real life people as look-a-likes.
> 
> Minh will look like a slightly younger version of **Benedict Wong**. I just love that man and the characters he plays.  
>  Yuen will look like **Takeshi Kaneshiro** from "House of Flying Daggers". Picture him around the age of 16 in this chapter.  
>  Shen Yi looks nothing like Mister Miyagi. I decided on **Deshun Wang** , the 80-year old model. Google him, he is fabulous.
> 
> The uniforms of the students are a sandcoloured version of the traditional shaolin attire - just with short sleeves, and without the black cords on the shins. Mt. Song Shan is the location of the original abbey called Shaolin, so I thought it was fitting that the magical equivalent of Shaolin had also the magical equivalent of their clothing.
> 
> Similarities and differences between Hogwarts and the Qíjī Zhī Jiān temple will be illuminated next chapter - the first when we meet older Harry! Prologues are over, guys, yay!


	5. Reminiscence 1 - Harry "Zhengi" Potter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Normal conversations in english."  
> " _Normal conversations in chinese_ "  
> " _ **Conversations in parseltongue**_ "
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** Harry Potter does not belong to me. Nor anything else of this franchise.

The summer was over again, and a couple of months ago, Harry James Potter, also lovingly called Zhengi by most of the monks, had been living and learning on Mt. Song Shan for nine years. It was the last day of october, and it was a beautiful, sunny day. Not sunny enough to fight off the cold mountain air, though, so the boy of fourteen hurried along towards the main building of the temple.  
Over the years, Harry had gained the confident stride of a member of Qíjī Zhī Jiā. Not arrogant, but sure in his abilities, and with the unconscious grace that came from years of training under the tutelage of the Gong Fu masters of the temple. Three meals a day and hard work had also worked their wonders. Though not fully grown yet, he stood a proud 5'5'', with lithe muscles and a noticeable tan. His jetblack hair was pulled back into a short braid that started at the base of his neck and was just shy of reaching between his shoulder blades, and his school uniform was held together by a golden yellow belt. There was little to no trace left from the terrified little boy that was found near the entrance of the temple, for he looked more than content with his surroundings - he looked genuinely happy with his arms full of hand bounded booklets that he was to bring to one of the classes.

Life has been good for him, that much was clear. After a year and a day of 'searching' for his relatives, the school had shut down any efforts in this direction, and fully incorporated little Harry into their lifes. Not that Harry had ever complained about that - he had been actively sabotaging any attempts of removing him from the temple, bonding with Minh and Yuen to the point where they became his family, with a bunch of new brothers and sisters and one really strange grandmaster. Furthermore, the boy had vehemently denied to tell anyone his given name until he was promised that he could stay here. When the year and the day passed, the monks discovered that the boy didn't even _know_ his full name - just his first one, Harry. Not that anyone even used that name anymore, as they had dubbed him Zhengi duo to the fact that the boy was horrible at lying to the point where he would cry loudly when he even tried.

The first year and the year after where the most troublesome for both Harry and his new guardians. Only a few were able to speak english, and none of the younger kids, and Harry himself had never uttered a chinese word before. He had to learn how to talk, write and read the dialect used on Mt. Song Shan, the Henan province, and Hongkong, as it was common for the locals. Had it not been for Minh, Harry would have forgotten about english at this point, because everyone only communicated in their native language with him to speed up the process of learning. Getting into the routine (and using a bed on a regular basis) was also difficult for Harry. Well, the good stuff was. He was used to wake up really early, and doing chores too - not that the small kids had to do more than sweeping a bit, and keep their rooms clean. The meals, however, and the training, and the schooling had the boy often times intimidated. Especially when it came to magic.

Qíjī Zhī Jiā teached a mix of very traditional chinese magics and some modern mundane subjects for the older kids. From a very young age, the children were taught a fluid form of Shaolin Gong Fu, and later in their education, they would learn how to cast magic, using their bodies as conductors. There were only a few wandmakers in the whole country, and none of them were up to the standarts of the european wandmakers and far too expensive for the average chinese wizard and witch. Using the own body as a conductor, every charm could reach a level of precision that was very hard to achieve with wand magic, but the number of charms was strongly limited, and the movements were more complicated the stronger the charm was.  
Another big part of the education system of Qíjī Zhī Jiā was calligraphy. After learning the traditional and the simplified chinese script, the children slowly and steadily incorporated the more than eighty seven thousand different symbols in the chinese answer to european runes - seals. From the beginners seal of two words or phrases interwoven together and bound by a circle to the more elaborate sheets of twenty to fifty linked words, every child in the temples care had to learn to prepare the ink, clean the brushes, and how to draw them.  
Those with the steady hands and brains needed to excell in this subject were allowed into additional classes. Here the students learned about how to create new seals to achieve the effects they wanted. How to choose the right words from thousands of symbols, how to connect and form them. And how to read and use the most common runes of other countries. In some ways, seals replaced part of the normal Charms lessons, and most of Transfiguration. While Charms was somehow covered with their Gong Fu, the latter was not teached at all as an independent subject.  
Some subjects were the same all over the world, though. Arithmancy, the teachings of numbers, and Astronomy, the teachings of stars, were nearly identical for the students of Qíjī Zhī Jiā to their counterparts of Hogwarts, and while Care of magical Creatures had different practical lessons duo to the environment, the most common creatures were covered per books in the theoretical classes.  
Another major difference was the lack of divination, and the strong emphasis on theory and preparation in potions. The kids were not allowed to come near a cauldron until they knew every possible reactions from the combination of ingredients used, and before that, they had to learn the methods of cutting, dicing, grinding, squeezing and in some interesting cases squashing the stuff. History, on the other hand, was miles and miles better than anything Hogwarts could offer since the employment of Professor Cuthbert Binns - before and after his death. Of course it covered mostly the rich and vibrant history of magical and mundane China, but they also learned about the major historical events all around the world. Funny enough, the war of magical britain was also included, but with a distinctive lack of names other than Voldemort, one Albus Dumbledore that was also later mentioned in World War 2, and some bloke called Potter.

Mundane subjects were electives, and the students had to actually visit a nearby mundane city for them. Harry himself was not old enough for chemistry and physics, but he enjoyed his lessons in Art that he had once a week. It reminded him of his calligraphy, just with more colours than inky black, and instead of words he drew things and people and everything you could verbalize with script. It had been Yuen who triggered first Harrys interest, and later his love for the art of seals, long before he would even make them in classes, and who later became his teacher when it became clear that the young english boy was not only a hard worker, but also talented in this particular subject. Especially after Yuen discovered that Harry needed glasses. Nowadays the boy wore contacts - the residents of the temple did not hesitate to make use of the many inventions the mundanes came up with.  
" _Master Yuen?_ " He had reached his destination, and knocked at the door to one of the classrooms. A muffled voice granted him entrance, and he was greeted by the sight of seven studious little boys and girls spreading ink everywhere while trying to draw some simple seals for lighting and cooling charms. Harry smiled at Yuen - the man had quickly become an older brother for the boy, just like Minh had become a father figure. " _Fresh booklets. This class is very diligent._ " He put the booklets down onto the teachers table and grinned when he heard the snickering of the little ones. While most teachers were bald, the younger kids up to age twelve wore their hair cut short. After reaching the mature age of twelve, they were allowed to let their hair grow, like Harry did with his. Yuen was one of the teachers who had long, braided hair, as he was not a monk like Minh, but a scholar of the temple.  
" _Rile them up a bit more, would you, Zhengi?_ ", the young man shot back, and laughed at the face Harry pulled. Roughly a year earlier, the english boy had decided that he was far too old for nicknames, and demanded that he was called Harry. The kids were nice enough, but most of the adults had seen him growing up and refused to give into his demands. Naturally, more snickering arised.  
" _Next time you need my help, I will remember this_ ", Harry claimed, but there was no real hurt in his voice, and his eyes were lit up with mirth. The colour literally changed to a bright leaf green, causing Yuen to snort.

The discovery of Harrys latent metamorphmagic abilities had been fun times. It started when his hair was cut short in the same fashion the other kids wore their hair. Harry was happy enough and enjoyed his new looks. The next day, however, he was devastated - his hair had grown back into the fluffy birds nest from before.  
After days of trial and error, and the perusing of old tomes bought decades ago in Italy, it was decided that Harry had some traces of a metamorphmagus in him. Like the chinese language, he was to learn it from the beginning, so that they would know how powerful his talent was. In the end, it was more convenient than powerful, and after a few weeks of training, Harry was able to change the lenght and curliness of his hair (but not the colour), and the colour of his eyes (but not the shape). The monks were happy with that and were very excited to be able to study one of these illusive shapeshifter, even if Harrys abilities were pretty weak.  
When they discovered him being a parselmouth, it was positively mayhem.

" _Don't dawdle, Zhengi. Shush!_ " With a cheeky grin, Harry left the classroom and tracked his way back across the drill ground towards one of the smaller buildings that housed the students. Unbeknownst to him, he was being watched from the window of the grandmasters office. A sign escaped Shen Yi, before he turned around and touched an envelope that laid on top of his desk. Made out of heavy parchment, it was neatly adressed with emerald green ink.

_To Grandmaster Shen Yi_  
_Qíjī Zhī Jiā, Mt. Song Shan_  
_Henan, China_

_from Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Order of Merlin, first class, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Words:** 1881


	6. Reminiscence 2 - Potions Master Severus Snape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Normal conversations in english."  
> " _Normal conversations in chinese_ "  
> " _ **Conversations in parseltongue**_ "
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** Harry Potter does not belong to me. Nor anything else of this franchise.

It was the last day of october. Halloween, to be precise, and like every year, the Great Hall was decorated for the occasion. Real bats were flying around, and Hagrids giant pumpkins grinned eerily down onto the students and teachers alike. The sky that was displayed on the charmed ceiling was dark and foreboding, and Severus Snape, Potions Professor of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, thought it quite fitting. The last three Halloween evenings in Hogwarts had been tainted in some fashion, but for the dour Professor and Head of House Slytherin, every Halloween was a sad occasion since the one thirteen years ago. This year, the tension was almost tangible in the hall, but that was not a surprise - with the addition of the foreign students from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons and the prospected announcement of the three champions today, the children were visibly excited - and in some cases anxious.

Almost unintentionally his gaze crossed the table to the far left - the one clad in red and gold. Had Potter been here, he could have been a Gryffindor. His scowl deepened, causing some of the students to flinch and hope that it was not them that had ruined the feared Potions Masters mood.

"Is everything alright, Severus?" He arched one eyebrow, before he looked to his left, where Professor Minerva McGonagall sat. She was one of his very few friends, but she was one of the most gryffindorish people he knew.  
"Of course it is not, Minerva", he sneered, but there was no real malice behind his expression, and she knew it. She still looked worried though, which was why he faced his untouched food again. She recognized his mood and kept herself from prying further. Of course she did - ever since that day, they had been rather close, bonded by mutual despair, followed by nine years of friendship he never thought he would find in this school when he accepted the offer to teach Potions.  
That day, of course, was the day Albus deemed it neccessary to tell both of his most trusted about the missing Boy-Who-Lived.

It had been late november in 1985 - Potter had been a five year old boy, should have been safely ensconced in his families home, looking forward to Christmas. That, of course, was not the case. When Albus had called for Minerva and him, he didn't even thought of Potter. Then, he had tried not to think of the boy at all. His time in Hogwarts had been far in the future, and thinking of the boy would have meant thinking about the father, or worse, about the mother, and _that_ had been still too hurtful. No, the boy had not crossed his mind. When he saw Albus somber expression, he thought of some trouble with the students, or some kind of resurface of missing Death Eaters. But the news were even worse...

> __
> 
> "What happened, Albus?" Even then Minerva had been the first one to speak, worry etched on her face and in her voice. "Did something happened?" Severus watched in silence, still wary about his position in the school that woke too many bad memories for the Professor.  
>  "Please, sit down you too." Albus was evasive, and while both knew that the Headmaster loved to conduct conversations, he normaly would do so with a cheery voice and a twinkle in his eyes. The Headmaster summoned some tea for three and waited until his Professors held onto their cups and took some sips from the hot beverage. "I have grave news, my friends. It is about young Harry."  
>  For one, blissful moment, Snape had not known which Harry the Headmaster was talking about. But Minervas harsh gasp next to him pulled him out of his musings.  
>  "What happened to him?" She sat rigid on her plush chair, eyes narrowed. A lioness, ready to fight for a cub that was not yet hers. Snape schooled a sneer on his face - memories of another young Potter came to his mind, but before he could voice his displeasure, Albus held his hand up and put his cup down.  
>  "He is missing. Still living, my dear Minerva, but he has been lost on a family vacation, and Misses Figg had brought it to my attention." His gaze settled on an assortment of fragile, silver artefacts. One of them was not moving as swiftly as Severus remembered. "The wards are already weakening. As far as I know, the police are frantically searching for him."  
>  "When?", Snape sharply asked. "Since when is he missing, Albus?"  
>  He had guessed right - guilt showed on the ancient face, and Minerva has also seen it.  
>  "The Dursleys went abroad three months ago. In the second week of their vacation, in a local festival, the boy was lost."  
>  "Abroad?" Minervas voice lost its sharpness. "You mean, the continent?"  
>  "Further", Snape breathed, eyes narrowed, after he studied Albus face. The Headmaster did not flinch, but he nodded.  
>  "China."
> 
> Shocked silence settled over the three for a few, long seconds.

Snape hold his breath for a second, before exhaling. The feast was still afoot, and it seemed that no one had tried to talk to the Professor again. The other staff members knew him good enough to know that it was better to let Snape brood when the mood struck him, especially today. Only Moody eyed him with unconcealed suspicion, but that was nothing new. He sneered at him, before watching his Slytherins interacting with the students from Durmtrang. Especially his godson Draco was trying to impress the foreign students. The teen had surprised the ex-Death Eater over the years - especially the budding friendship with the brightest witch of her year (and probably the other years, too), Hermione Granger. A muggleborn, of all things! The odd friendship had changed the political plane of house Slytherin considerably, but like his father, Draco had a talent for strengthening his stance in a house full of snakes. Over the period of his third year, he had won most of his yearmates allegiances, and those of other key members of the house of cunning. A developement Snape was silently proud of. Especially because Granger had retaliated in kind and practically forced her fellow lions to cease from alienating themselves from Slytherin in the form of open warfare. It was still a fiery rivalry, but mixed Potion classes were far more relaxed now, and for that Snape was thankul.

Regretfully, the Potions Master could not hold his thoughts on that pleasant matter. His musings returned towards the Potter boy. He should be the same age of Draco know. And noone knew if the boy even got schooled in magic. It was entirely possible that Potter was enjoying the muggle life, lost as he was. So lost indeed, that neither Dumbledore nor his teachers had been able to find the boy in the vast country. How many weeks had he personally sacrificed, wandering through the provinces of China? How many times had he seen Minerva furiously writing to all the small, insular magical governmets there? As united as muggle China was, the magical community was scattered, settlemens and schools and districts isolated with their own regulations. It had made things far too complicated, up to the point where Albus has canceled further investigation, content with the knowledge that Potter was alive and well. _Had he simply placed a tracking charm on the boy_ , Snape bitterly thought for the thousandth time, _he would now sit here and eat his fill, waiting for the champion selection to begin like the other dunderheads._

But in which state would he then be? The thought crossed his mind like a knife, like every single time. Because Snape knew that it was not only a tragedy that Potter vanished. That there were reasons for the boy to run away, if that is what has happened. He knew, because he had been the one to question the Dursleys. Both Minerva and he had wanted to go. In the end, Albus decided to send them both, even gave Snape the permission to use subtle Legilimency on the adults to search for clues the Dursleys had likely overseen. What they had found, however, was a lack of worry, a lack of care. Both Petunia and Vernon had been more than hostile towards the witch and the wizard, up to the point that Minerva had to petrify them for Snape to perform the Legilimency. He shuddered when he remembered Minervas reaction when he showed her the cupboard. The Dursleys had not even bothered with cleaning the small space under the stairs out. There had still been the small, dingy matress, the threadbare clothing and the pitiful collection of broken toys and crayons on the floor, shoved aside for cleaning supplies. Most prominent in his memories was a tiny sketch on the wall of a stickman with a mob of black hair on top of it. The child had been too young to write down his own name, but he had drawn himself. Had he not been there that day, both of the Dursleys wouldn't have survived Minervas wrath. Snape himself had to ruthlessly use his own Occlumency skills to keep calm enough to save the muggles from certain death, but later enjoyed their incarceration by the muggle police forces when he called them in and showed them the evidence of child abuse and neglect.

After their findings, the search had continued for almost two years until Albus had called it off. But an old oath, and some dark memories of his own childhood, urged Snape to keep searching on his own, until it was kind of a tradition for the Potions Master to spend his vacation time in the summer hols in Asia. But with hundreds of mostly hidden magical locations, not to speak of the vast muggle society, it was a futile endeavor. Most of the teachers had set their hopes on the school letters of 1991, even though it was unheard of a letter to be adressed towards a location anywhere outside of the british kingdom. And true enough, none was written for the last of the Potters. The news of Potters vanishing act lit up again, but soon other happenings in the school caught the attention of the residents. _Like the troll_ , Snape thought wryly. _And the whole stone fiasco._

Yes, the year of 1991 had been a tough one. Not only had his own godson Draco joined the school, but a whole accumulation of trouble seeking dunderheads came with him. Of course there was another Weasley boy, joining the twin menace of 1989. And the son of Countess Zabini, also known as the Black Widow - a political neuter in Britain and Europe, with powerful connections in the French and Italian corner -, Blaise Zabini. There were the heir of House Longbottom, the heiress of House Brown, and one of the twin daughters of House Patil in Gryffindor, an unusual concentration of influential children in the house of the brave. On the muggleborn side was also one of the brightest witches even Snape had ever seen - Hermione Granger and her neverending quest of knowledge -, and a member of the top wealthiest muggle families of Britain, Justin Finch-Fletchley, who joined the Hufflepuffs together with the halfblood and heir of House Goldstein. Even those teachers uninterested in the political planes like Minerva and Sprout had been intrigued with the concentration of heirs and influential muggleborns. And yet, the sorting was not the reason Snape declared 1991 as one of the worst years Hogwarts has seen.

The stone was the sole reason, of course, and the thing it had attracted. Nicholas Flamels stone of life and wealth, hidden behind traps that the average talented witch and wizard could solve, meant lure in the one who tried to steal it first from Nicholas private home and later from Gringotts. The whole plan was one giant fiasco, with two students nearly dying by broom (Messers Longbottom and Malfoy), another three students nearly dying by troll (Messers Longbottom and Weasley - the youngest - and Miss Granger respectively), the same students later nearly dying by giant three-headed dog, and the Headmaster and all four Head of Houses nearly dying by a rogue Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor possessed by the vengeful spirit of the Dark Lord Voldemort, who by all rights should have been dead for ten years.

Just as Snape started to silently rant about Dracos second year - and all the desasters that happened in that one -, Minerva nudged him and he directed his fierce scowl at her before following her nod towards the goblet. His food was long gone, and he had emerged out of his musings just in time to witness a scorched piece of parchment flying into Albus waiting hand.

"And the champion of Durmstrang is... Viktor Krumm!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Works:** 2147
> 
> For your interest: I work with bookverse, not movieverse. Both Durmstrang and Beauxbatons have mixed genders just like Hogwarts. Most characters will look like the movie characters, though. I will tell you in the end notes when there are visible differences. My Harry, as an example, actually has green eyes like the book says, and a nice tan, too!


	7. Reminiscence 3 - Transfiguration Professor Minerva McGonagall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Normal conversations in english."  
> " _Normal conversations in chinese_ "  
> " _ **Conversations in parseltongue**_ "
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** Harry Potter does not belong to me. Nor anything else of this franchise.

Minerva McGonagall, Transfiguration Professor, Head of House Gryffindor and Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, was eying her younger colleague over a goblet of red wine. In the last years, she had worried a great deal for young Severus, what with his insistence to quietly search one of the largest countries on earth every summer. Not that she would blame him - she found it rather touching that Snape cared so much. She did too, after all, and occasionally joined him on his quest. That said, she quietly agreed with the Headmaster on that matter - that Harry was missing, but alive and safe, and that they should be content with that, given that they had searched for nearly nine years without any success.

Watching Snape yet again falling prey to his musings, she felt her own thoughts wandering from the feast towards older memories. Halloween did that to a lot of the older staff members - most of those who had known the parents of the Boy-Who-Was-Missing personally, like Albus and Severus and herself. Hagrid always looked quite lost, and even Pomona was tittering about these days, mothering all her precious Hufflepuffs with even more care than usual.

No, autumn has never been quite the pleasant season for the teachers that it used to be. Tragedy always hunted them down the days around Halloween, and Minerva was not immune to the heavy mood at her end of the table. She couldn't even say when she started to sit next to Severus at the Halloween feast, but it had quickly become a known tradition to the surprise of the students.

Her eyes wandered towards her lion cubs. The last three years, there had been far too many dangers for them. Just kids, the bunch of them, and yet some were already so brave. Especially young Hermione Granger. The rule-loving girl had a special kind of bravery - she would not stand for any kind of unfairness, and the list of things she wouldn't do for her friends was a short one. And while Minerva had been one of those that worried over the budding friendship of Granger and the Malfoy boy, the muggleborn had shown the school why she was sorted into the House of the Brave and not into Ravenclaw. And to think how poorly everything has started! For it had been the Malfoy boy and his group of friends from Slytherin who had mocked the poor girl the most in her first year (though her Gryffindor firsties had not been better in the first couple of months), and even in second year it had needed mortal peril for the two children to find friendship.  
Rather like the troll incident, if she had to be truthful.

She would have been a wonderful friend for young Harry. Maybe young Longbottom, too. Not as shy as he had been in his first year, and now that he was fourteen, he has started to fill out, growing a few inches, shoulders getting broader. With the Weasley lad came the whole family, something Harry had been lacking in his younger years - Minerva could only hope that he had found one whereever he was now, but she had no illusions about his home situation prior to his disappearance. After Severus had forced her out of the muggle house, she had redirected all her fury towards Albus. Merlin, she had been ready to kill. Like Severus, she would not stand for any form of abuse, and it had been done to Harry, to Lilys and James child!

Shaking her head ever so slightly, she tried to push those thoughts away. It had been too late then, and it was definitely far too late now. She had other children to worry about (not that her worry for Harry would ever stop), and given the last three years, it was surprising that no imminent danger had presented itself till now. Even the wratched Tournament seemed tame when you had a Basilisk running wild in the school, and had that not been an eventful year...

She still chastised herself for the whole incident. All could have been gone much more smoothly (and faster), had she just _listened _to her students. The details had been lost to her, but Albus had told them how both Miss Granger and Mister Malfoy had been the driving force behind a group of second years after the petrification of both Ronald Weasley and Blaise Zabini. When the Longbottom and the Goyle boys were found later, the brightest witch of her year and the Malfoy scion both went on a mad hunt to find the culprit. And hadn't it been for Albus and his trust in his students, no other teacher had ever believed in the fantastic tale of a cursed book in the possession of one Ginevra Weasley. Thankfully, the Headmaster had practically dragged his Heads of Houses with him to an unused lavatory on the second floor, just in time to witness young Ginny Weasley hissing at a tab on the wall - which promptly opened up to reveal a hidden pathway into the depths of the castle. She still shivered when she thought of the abomination that they found there. It had taken a long time for the youngest Weasley and only girl to come to terms with her possession after the diary had been destroyed.__

__Her musings were halted by a loud cheer - she saw one of the Durmstrang students stand up. She clapped a few times and looked towards Albus, who was catching another piece of scorched parchment out of the air after the goblet spat it out._ _

__"For Beauxbatons, one Fleur Delaceur!"_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Words:** 949


	8. Reminiscence 4 - Headmaster Albus Dumbledore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Normal conversations in english."  
> " _Normal conversations in chinese_ "  
> " _ **Conversations in parseltongue**_ "
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** Harry Potter does not belong to me. Nor anything else of this franchise.
> 
>  
> 
>  **To my readers:** I have some key students and their future role in my head, but if you think that Harry should totally befriend someone special, despite (or maybe because?) of the new dynamics at Hogwarts, feel free to let me know. If it fits with my plans so far, I will try to work with it. :)

Albus smiled. The excitement in the air was palpable, and he could not deny he too felt the suspense of the next drawing. Both the Durmstrang and the Beauxbaton champions had already been picked, and with cheerful jubilance from students and teachers alike walked towards the little chamber behind the teachers table. His bright blue eyes twinkled merrily while watching his precious students and their guests. His heart swelled with pride when he saw Hermione waving at the young Malfoy heir. Some of the older Gryffindors and Slytherins still bothered about the almost scandalizing friendship of a handful of both houses. Most of their own year group and the younger years did not cared though, and some tentative approaches between the younger years were already underway. It was a good thing to happen, especially at times like these.

The only thing that would be able to make Dumbledore even more happy was the presence of a certain boy. Maybe it was because Harry would have been in the same year, but between the cheers for the beautiful blonde student from Beauxbatons and the third and last drawing his thoughts wandered back to Halloween last year. After the desasters the two years prior, it came to no surprise that yet again the year had been tainted with danger. Not that Sirius Black, newly freed Lord of the Ancient and Noble House of Black, had been the real danger. The Headmaster blamed the Minister and his decision to use a horde of Dementors to safeguard the castle after Black escaped from Azkaban.

Even Dumbledore had not known that the man was actually innocent, and hadn't it been for this extraordinary group of friends of third years and the two Weasley twins and their curiosity, this truth would have been lost forever. After the events of Hermione and Dracos second year, both had transcended the rivalry of their houses, and the young Malfoy tossed the long teached bigotry aside in a way only young children were able too. It seemed that near death experiences were very helpful in these matters. Soon enough, both childrens friends found the others worthy enough to at least try and get along. And with that, the third year of Harrys absence saw a force of admirable intelligence. Hermione was one of the brightes witches Dumbledore had ever seen, with an exemplary memory and a knack for research, while Draco and his little friend Blaise Zabini brought the typical resourcefulness of Slytherin into the mix. Even Ronald and Neville could contribute to the group, what with the youngest male Weasleys strategy knowledge and the Longbottom heirs vast knowledge of certain, albeit specialized topics - including Whoomping Willows.

Like in their second year, the children began to investigate Black and his reasons for attacking the castle - everyone knew that Harry Potter was not there, that he had never arrived at Hogwarts at 1991. It was no secret (though most people thought that their saviour was wandering the world and learning all kinds of exotic magicks), and even someone as insane as Black had to get to know this fact at one point. He still attacked Gryffindor tower twice, as if he thought his godson was hidden there.

He never found out all the details - one of Hagrids Hippogryphs evidently played a large role, though how he had no idea -, but the Weasley twins somehow found out that the current DADA teacher, one Remus Lupin and old friend of Dumbledore, was one of the legendary Marauders, a group of four Gryffindor pranksters some twenty years ago. These Marauders had created an extraordinary map of the school (to the horror of his staff, Dumbledore had given the twin menace the map back after studying it), and both Fred and George asked Professor Lupin about an error in the map, a name in Gryffindor tower no one knew. And while Professor Lupin was frantically flooing Albus himself, little Miss Granger and Messers Malfoy, Weasley (the youngest), Longbottom and Zabini were laying siege on the Whoomping Willow after watching a rather large, black dog crawling between its roots ("Of course he was an animagus, Professor, it was rather obvious, really").

Before anyone got hurt, Albus, Lupin and Minerva (he still thanked Merlin that dear Severus had not been in the staff room at that time) reached the Shrieking Shack, only to find a stunned Sirius Black and five smug third years waiting for him, while Fred and George Weasley catched a sleeping rat.

Albus looked to his side only to see Severus still scowling at his plate. The Headmaster had pulled all strings to get Black a new trial (actually his first - Albus was still ashamed and guilty about that mistake), and his Potions Professor was still angry about it. The only thing that seemed to have placated the dour man was the fact that Black had wasted no time to start his own search for his missing godson (he had heard about that before he reached Hogwarts, another thing why he was really, really angry with Dumbledore), sparing neither time nor money. Just like Albus himself in the first few months...

A bright flame stopped his musings, and he was just able to catch the third scorched piece of parchment, the one with Hogwarts champion on it. Smiling, Dumbledore glanced at his students. "And for Hogwarts..." He looked down on the name, and his smile grew bigger. "... Cedric Diggory!"

The Hall erupted in cheers - especially the Hufflepuff table was up and in the middle of it, handsome Cedric Diggory grinned delighted and nervous. "Please, go through", Albus beckoned him. He felt content. It had been years that he felt as heartbrocken as in the beginning over young Harrys disappearance, mostly because one of his little, silver instruments was still puffing and humming merrily. It was linked to Harrys lifeforce, bonded to the little one the day after his birth, later joined by another one that monitored the blood wards. He never dared to directly contact the boy (he believed in family, though had he known that Miss Figgs had downplayed so much of the rough handling, he had found another, safer home for the baby). And now, all he had left was to know that Harry was indeed alive. It was enough. It had to be enough.

Just as Albus was about to turn around and follow Diggory to the chamber where the other champions and their headmaster and headmistress were waiting, all the cheering and gossiping stopped cold. All eyes were fixated onto the goblet, which was again alight with a bright, red flame. A fourth piece of parchment glided through the air, and students and teachers alike hold their breath when Albus reached upwards and paled visibly. The old Headmaster looked towards his teachers, then again at the parchment, before clearing his throat.

"For... Qíjī Zhī Jiā..." He stumbled a bit over the foreign name. Chinese. Both Minerva and Severus tensed in their seats. "Harry James Potter."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Words:** 1171
> 
> This marks the end of the 'Reminiscence' chapters. I will keep changing the PoVs, but it will mostly be Harry and Snape, with some other views thrown in between (I plan on both Ron and Hermione, but also at least Neville, Draco and Blaise for the students).
> 
> Next time, Harry gets his letter, and boy will he be surprised! Who thought HE would be the famous Boy-Who-Lived?


	9. First Contact 1 - Pen Pals in the Making

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Normal conversations in english."  
> " _Normal conversations in chinese_ "  
> " _ **Conversations in parseltongue**_ "
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** Harry Potter does not belong to me. Nor anything else of this franchise.
> 
>  **Info:** I can't write accents for my life. I may change this later, but until I find someone to do it for me, all accents will only be described as such. For example, Madam Maxime has a strong french accent, while Igor Karkaroff speaks rather smooth english. McGonagall has a scottish accent that grews stronger when she gets emotional. I don't even know what Hagrid speaks.
> 
> I also changed the rating. Sirius uses a lot of strong words, and he will feature heavily in the next couple of chapters.

It took several firecracker spells and the use of the Sonorus charm to quiten the students. Albus had to dissolve the feast and had the prefects guide the other students to their respective dorms. His staff and the other adult guests on the other hand were not as easily dismissed. The british Ministry of Magic, of course knew of the incident nine years ago - at least the higher ups, like Crouch and Bagman as Head of Departments -, but the general public had fabricated their own theories were the Boy-Who-Lived had vanished to. Since he was given to his muggle relatives and thus was missing from the face of magical Britain, Harry Potter was the stuff of fantastical stories. Slaying dragons and flying on a phoenix, chasing rogue Death Eaters and challenging Dark Lords left, right and center, the missing Boy was said to travel the world from the tender age of two, learning exotic magicks and conquering the world. Neither the Ministry nor Dumbledore ever saw fit to correct the people and just let the rumour mill run, even when several children books were published, outlining the adventures of the Boy-Who-Lived for the adoring fans.  
And while Crouch and Bagman and his own staff knew very well that all these stories were nothing more than made-up fantasies of oblivious people, both Igor Karkaroff and Madame Olympe Maxime, respectively Headmaster of Durmstrang and Headmistress of Beauxbatons, had no further knowledge about the boy besides what the rumours had spilled over the borders. So it was understandable that the two had many questions the moment their champions were sent back towards their quarters.

"What is the meaning of this, Dumbledore?" Of course it was Igor who started the discussion after the door closed behind Cedric, Fleur and Viktor, the three very confused and alarmed champions. "A fourth school? In a tournament made for three? And with Britains national icon as it's champion?" The large, yet wispy man narrowed his dark eyes in suspicion and was soon backed up by the impressive Madam Maxime, a woman matching Hagrid in size.  
"Yes, Dumbledore, please explain this." Her heavy accent could not hide the irritation in her voice. "Is this Potter person not supposed to receive some kind of special training? And how come that there are now four schools in the competition? It had always been just the three major european schools. I never heard of this... Ki Dschi school." The last part was spoken in disdain, partly because she stumbled upon the foreign name even more than Dumbledore had.

Both Albus and Minerva could practically _see_ the scorching response on Snapes tongue, and the Headmaster hurried to interrupt his Potions Master, with a calm but adequately stern tone to placate the man. "I am humbled, Madam, Igor, that you assume me to be omniscient, but be assured that I am indeed just human. Harry Potters whereabouts have been unknown since 1985, though it had been suspected that the boys location was indeed somewhere in China." He lifted his hand to interrupt Karkaroff, who made to comment these news, and turned a bit towards Crouch. "I don't know who could have hexed the goblet. This kind of magic needed to be done by someone at least well versed in strong Confundus charms, with a powerful enough magical core - nothing a mere student, regardless of the school, could have done. Although the goblet is dormant again, I think an investigation would be in order?"

"That is correct, Headmaster." Mister Crouch was a serious looking man at best - right now one could have cut steel with his look alone. "It can't be moved from the wards, obviously, so it will be done on Hogwarts territory."

"And what with Potter?", an impatient Karkaroff interjects, eyes dark and irritated. "He needs to be removed from the tournament! Why should we tolerate a fourth school, let alone one no one knows of?"

"Because he needs to participate." Crouchs voice gained a cold edge, and with its finality, not only Karkaroff and Madam Maxime looked discordant. Albus too seemed to be quite unnerved.  
"Surely we can change it back, Bartemius?"

"I am sorry, Headmaster. But since the goblet is once again in its dormant state, it is no longer possible to change the parameters of the tournaments. Each champion is in a binding magical contract with the goblet, and is required to participate within his or her best abilities. If a champion fails to do so, the contract is violated and his or her magic is forfeit." This was no surprise for the headmasters and the headmistress, other than the informaion that the number of participants could not be corrected.

"And that means that we have to contact the fourth school. And its champion." Albus and Snape exchanged a look, but the serious mood escaped the other ministry judge in the room, one Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports. The jovial man clapped his hand in a merry fashion, eyes shiny and with a large smile on his handsome, boyish face.

"And isn't that exciting? All this talking about Confundus might be very interesting for scholars, but we are talking about _Harry Potter_ coming back to Britain!" He almost shouted this in his excitement. "I mean, he was practically lost for how long? Merlin, and youngest champion too! The Daily Prophet won't know where to start!"

"The Daily Prophet should not know about this until we can guarantee that Mister Potter will participate. For all we know he could have been raised as a muggle, unaware of his very heritage", Crouch interjects matter-of-factly.

Igor looked a bit bewildered at this point. "What does that mean? Lost? Muggle?"

"It means that the Potter boy has gone missing while on vacation with his muggle relatives. The Headmaster and the Ministry have been unable to locate him since then, despite or because the help of the many local government bodies. This is, in fact, the first solid lead we have. Even if the named school is fake, the contract is made and we should be able to track the boy down. Which should be done as soon as possible." Snapes sharp words cut right through Karkaroffs spluttering. He seemed eager to make for an exit, and neither Albus nor Minerva could blame him. Noone who knew about his ongoing search for the boy could.

"That is right, Severus. I am sure Mister Crouchs Department is willing to assist us in this case, so why don't you accompany him to the Ministry while Mister Bagman organises the examination of the goblet? I will contact Mister Potters godfather. Lord Black will want to know how his godson is faring." Albus was fast to regain control of the conversation, and neither Severus nor Crouch argued against his plans (There was, however, the slightest twitch on Snapes face when Black was mentioned - even though Sirius had somewhat changed his views for Snape after learning that the greasy Potions Master never stopped searching for his godson, Snape himself was less kind-hearted and held tight to his hate). Even Karkaroff and Madam Maxime knew when they were dismissed, and in the end only Albus and Minerva stood in the small chamber before walking up towards Dumbledores office.

"Bless the fates, Albus, I never thought this day would come."

Albus helped the agitated Professor into a plush chintz chair that he had conjoured and called for a house elf to bring some tea. "Me neither, my dear Minerva. But while I want nothing more to meet Harry again and to bring him here, I am also very troubled about the circumstances." He sighed and took his place behind his large desk. The picturesquely stained glass windows reflected the lights of the many candles floating above them - it was too dark outside for them to enjoy the marvelous view of the office. Fawkes was resting on his perch, and most of the portraits around them were at least pretending to be asleep. "I wanted him to find his own way home - or for one of us to find and _invite_ him. The chance that he has bonded with his current home is high, and the contract will force him into either participating in a dangerous contest, or forfeiting his magic."

His Deputy Headmistress leaned forward to put a hand on his own. Albus looked as distressed as Minerva felt. "It won't help if we mope around, now that it happened. Severus will see to it that we will be the ones to contact Harry. He will be as eager to see him as Sirius, the poor lad, and we must shape the meeting towards a good impression." Despite being overwhelmed herself, she managed to sound stern enough for Dumbledore to chuckle. It made her smile - she disliked seeing her old friend agitated. "Now write Sirius, but don't mention the name of the school, or he is on his way the moment your message arrives."

"You are right, Minerva. What would I do without you?"

~~~

"I want the location now, Albus!"

The voice was just shy from yelling, but loud enough to cause the majority of portraits of deceased Headmasters and Headmistresses to murmur angrily at the black haired man that stood before Dumbledore. Sirius Black looked better after few months out of Azkaban. He was still too thin, his eyes still had a crazed shine to them, and his face was gaunt, but he was no longer deathly pale. A rough stuble adorned his face, his long hair was once again full and fell in elegant waves towards his shoulders, and he wore an exquisite and quite expensive open robe over a pair of frayed jeans and a KISS shirt. On his right index finger he wore a heavy, silver ring with a polished onyx, bearing the crest of his family, the Ancient and Noble House of Black. Next to it was a garish ring, cheap and mugglemade. He moved this hand a great deal while speaking, ignoring the reprimands of the portraits.

"And I won't give it to you, Sirius, as long as you keep on shouting. You need to hear me out." Albus sat patiently on his customary seat and watched the man in front of him. He did not smile, nor acted his usual grandfatherly way.

"He is my godson, for fucks sake. I have every right to know where he is. I want to see him, Albus! Bring him back home!"

"And that is exactly why I can't tell you right now." Before Sirius could interrupt in a very loud and rude manner, Albus lifted his hand and silenced him - quite literally. The Lord of House Black opened his mouth a few times, before glaring menacingly at his former Headmaster. "Now you will listen to me, Sirius, because this is a very delicate matter." Albus pointed at the chair in front of him, the one Sirius had ignored since storming his office. It took a few more seconds for the man to stop fuming, but he eventually took the seat, crossed his arms that reminded Albus briefly of a certain Potions Master, and narrowed his eyes.

"You must understand that we still have to check the information regarding Harrys whereabouts. There are certain steps to follow - yes, Sirius, they are important. Please consider that Harry presumably lived there since he was five. _After_ getting away from an abusive household. He most probably has bonded with the people there, and isn't even aware of his heritage other than he is from England. Right now we have to contact the school, and by that way him, and _after_ that is done we can move forward to visit him there. _Not_ to take him away", Albus added sternly. "But to inform him about the tournament and why he was chosen as another champion regardless that he is much too young to risk his life in the challenges. He will feel forced, and it won't help when we storm his home and put more pressure on him with our wishes. And you know exactly how much Minerva and I, and other people too, want to bring him home."

He was reliefed that Sirius did not speak up immediately. He had removed the nonverbal Silencio in the beginning of his little speech, which had cooled the Lord down a bit. He still looked stubborn, but also deep in thought. "You will inform me when you contact them. And I want to read the letter you are sending. And I want to know the moment you receive an answer. _And_ I will be coming with you and Snape when you go to see him." His voice was harsh, but Albus was not offended. For twelve years Sirius had thought that Harry was safe and protected, attending Hogwarts, making friends where the last Black had made his, just to break out of prison and find out that his godson has been missing since '85. It was easy to see just how much the man loved Harry without even knowing the boy asside from his first year by the way he reacted after finding out about Snapes trips to China. He had practically burried his hate for the Slytherin on the spot and even tried to apology to the man several times, only to get sneered at each and every time. He still disliked Snape, but Sirius was unable to truly hate the only person who had never stopped searching for his godson.

"I don't think that there is any problem with that. Severus should be back in a bit. You can stay for dinner if you like, and afterwards attend his report."

"Deal. But I will sit at my old table."

~~~

" _To Grandmaster Shen Yi_

_Qíjī Zhī Jiā, Mt. Song Shan_

_Henan, China_

_from Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Order of Merlin, first class, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot._

_I am writing you regarding one of your students at your honorable school, one Harry James Potter. In the summer of 1985, the 03. September, Harry, who was at that time only five years old, got separated from his relatives in the city of Wuhan during the New Moon Festival. We were informed that it was duo to an act of accidential magic that he apparated to an until now unknown location. Both the british Ministry of Magic as well as personal friends of his late parents, Lord James Fleamont Potter and Lady Lily Potter nee Evans, have been unable to find Harry in the years to follow. Only in the last days, duo to an unusual malfunction of an ancient runic device called the Goblet of Fire, it was revealed to us that the missing boy has found a home at your honorable school for the last nine years._

_Sadly, I do not write you this latter only to express our greatest gratitude for raising a child that means most to us, or to express our wish to visit your admirable establishment. I have also contacted you to inform you about the nature of the artifact that, and under which circumstances it helped us to find Harry._

_This year, after more than a centuries break, a tournament is held again between the three biggest magical schools in Europe. This tournament, the Triwizards Tournament, uses the Goblet of Fire to choose a champion from the students body - one per school. Two days ago, this ritual was held at Hogwarts, but after the three champions were chosen, the goblet revealed a forth champion to fight, and with this act, a permanent and binding magical contract was made between the artifact and Harry James Potter, as he is now the champion of Qíjī Zhī Jiā. I can not tell you who manipulated the device in such a way so it would bind another champion, nor why it was done. I can only tell you that we are yet to find a way to release the contract without causing the loss of Harrys magic._

_I humbly propose a meeting between you and myself, as well as two teachers of my staff, Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall and Potions Master Severus Snape, and Lord Sirius Orion Black, the godfather of Harry._

_As this can be seen as an attempt to remove the boy from your care, which is not the case without your and his consent, I am willing to swear an oath that would hinder any such attempt before entering your esteemed educational establishment._

__

_Yours truly,_

_A. P. W. B. Dumbledore._ "

" _Wait a second. You mean Harry, _our_ little Zhengi, is supposed to be this boy hero from Europe, and now that the people there have found him, they not only want to come here but they also made it so that he will lose his magic if he does not comply?_ "

The Grandmaster started to doubt that it had been a good idea to tell Yuen about the letter first. Both he and Minh were closest to young Harry, but Minh was still away for at least a couple of hours, and it didn't feel right to discuss this with just anyone. And while Yuen was mostly a calm and collected young man, he got remarkably emotional when it came to the boy he thought of as a little brother.

" _I doubt that they did it on purpose. If it's true that Zhengi is Potter, than there are a lot of people in Britain keen on getting him back. He even offers an oath, and I have read about this Dumbledore. He is seen as, what they call, the 'Leader of the Light'. The late Lord and Lady Potter have been close to him. Both died in the war, and he was their leader._ "

" _That does not sooth me, Master. There is talk about a godfather. They will try and take him, even if it is just for this tournament, and then they have more time to persuade him to stay!_ "

" _Yuen, this is no more your decision as it is not theirs._ " Shen Yis sharp tone silenced his former student and teacher. He could see the guilt behind the anger and concern on his face, and softened his voice. " _I too am reluctant to accept Harry being brought away. But we must give them a chance. And if what they say is true, then we have an obligation towards Harry to let him know. I also want to know why he was so vehement in staying here when he was a young one. Why he was raised in an abusive home. So yes, I will allow a visit, as long as they take an oath not to press the boy. But someone has to tell Harry about this - not about the contract, obviously, but that old friends of his parents and his godfather are to visit. He must decide if he wants to meet them. And he has to know his true name, his history._ "

The young man nodded, albeit slowly and with great reluctance. He knew that Yi was right - he was a grandmaster for a reason, and his appearance belied his true age like it was for a lot of strong wizards. It had hardly changed from when he was a young boy. " _Then let me be the one to tell him. I would like it to be Minh, but I also don't want to wait until after dinner. Keeping such things secret is suffocating, even if it is only for a few more hours._ "

The Grandmaster agreed to this, and sent student to fetch the boy. It didn't take long for Harry to arrive, a little bit out of breath as he had trained with his peers on the drill ground. The boy looked distracted, and he kept rubbing his chest. He did not notice the worried looks both Yuen and Yi were exchanging.

" _Are you feeling ill, Zhengi?_ " Yuen stalked forwards, hands already extanded, and began prodding the boy like the mother hen he was. Harry twitched slightly - the man he saw as an older brother used his magic to search for any injuries or diseases, and it always felt like being touched by something static.

" _Not really. I mean, for a couple of days there is a little pull between my solar plexus and my stomache, nothing to worry about, but today Master Bai has teached us a sensory enhancing stance..._ " He drifted off and was again rubbing his chest, seemingly annoyed. " _It just grew stronger?_ "

While Yuen just prodded Harry even more, Shen Yi minutely closed his eyes. He knew what that feeling meant. In countries where wands or other crafted foci were used to bind magic, only powerful or unusually sensitive individuals could _feel_ certain kinds of magic, like wards or oaths. Most asian countries however used their own body to funnel magic, thus making them very sensitive. It was a necessity - you had to be very precise with using your body as an instrument, which was why it was teached from a very young age.

" _Yuen, please let go of him. Take a seat, both. We have to discuss a matter of great importance._ "

~~~

" _I..._ " Harry faltered. He could not even meet Yuens eyes. His brother in all but blood had told him about the letter that had arrived that day, about friends of his parents that had searched for a long time for him after they found out that the Dursleys had lost him all those years ago. About a godfather that wanted to meet him. About the proposed visit. Yuen had been gentle and kind while talking, not showing any of his own negative feelings regarding the topic.

Neither the teacher nor the Grandmaster had told him about the pressure of the contract the boy was feeling. Shen Yi had solved the matter by telling Harry that he would get the explanation later, and the boy had just nodded while Yuen performed the spell to negate the sensory enhancing one. Not that Harry recognized anything else than his own, churning thoughts. He had often thought about his parents. What they looked like (Petunia never saw fit to provide him with pictures). What they had been like (both Minh and Yuen had worked hard to make young Harry see that his aunt and uncle had probably lied about them being drunks and whores, too). How life would have been with them. They were thoughts that all orphaned boys and girls had. He did not know if he ever had thought about friends. Or teachers. About their life before becoming parents. He had never thought about a godfather, and now he had one?

And then there was his identity. For years he had puzzled over his own name, and here it was. Harry James Potter. James after his father. His mother had been an Evans. Lily... it was a beautiful name. He blinked hastily and closed his eyes, and he was thankful that neither of the adults was talking at the moment. They were giving him enough time to calm himself, to just _breath_. But that was rather hard with all this information. Harry James Potter. Potter... Wait, like _the_ Harry Potter? The boy-wonder? Idol of countless witches and wizards on the isles? THE Harry Potter he had learned about last year in History? The Boy-Who-Lived, destroyer of a Dark Lord? His eyes flew open, and he looked so helpless that Yuens body moved itself until his arms were securely wrapped around Harry, soothing the young wizard with his presence.

" _I know it's much_ ", he whispered into his ears. " _You need to take your time to process all of this. And when you are ready, you can tell us about your decision, yes? You don't have to go to your classes today._ "

The overwhelmed boy could do nothing but nod - he would have cried, had he tried to speak at that moment. Because he was a celebrity. Because there were people who had searched him for years. Because he had a godfather. Because there were people who could provide him with something even his family, his living, breathing family of Yuen and Minh and Master Yi could not - with memories and stories and maybe even pictures of his parents that he had never really met, that he had no memories of his own. He struggled to stand up, and then he walked out of the office, out of the building, and towards the dorms.

In the end, he made his decision the moment Minh arrived in his room after the monk had a talk with the Grandmaster. Throwing himself towards the person he forever would see as his father, he knew that Minh would approve, and so the Grandmaster wrote a reply with all the specific requirements for a visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Words:** 4170
> 
> Next time, we meet Harrys peer group and the Brits arrive.


	10. First Contact 2 - Plum Blossom Blues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Normal conversations in english."  
> " _Normal conversations in chinese_ "  
> " _ **Conversations in parseltongue**_ "
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** Harry Potter does not belong to me. Nor anything else of this franchise.
> 
> AN: Duo to my lifestyle this story will have long breaks between updates, peppered with multiple chapters uploaded in short amounts of time. I will try to do better next time this happens so that you will be warned when I dissappear for another 3 months.
> 
> Also, I am currently in search for a Beta. Everytime I reread my work, I notice new errors.

It was November the 6th, and a bright and early morning in the Henan province. The air was cold and crisp, and the sky still had a tinge of pink in it from the previous sunrise. The plum trees wore white and bright pink blossoms that they shed onto the ground, ignoring the current season and giving the impression of a perfect early spring day. The children were eating their fill of hot stew and steaming rice and vegetables for breakfast, contently murmuring with each other. One of them, a young teenage boy with remarkably european features despite sitting between dozens of chinese boys and girls, was particularly twitchy, changing between wolfing down his food and starring out of the window like a rabbit would stare at the snake.

The last couple of days had been both incredible slow and far too fast for Harry to comprehend. The unfamiliar anticipation he felt was driving him crazy.

" _Relax, Harry._ " Said boy shot a grumpy look at the amused teen next to him. There had only been seven other kids his age at the temple when he arrived, and from those seven, five have remained with him over the years. They shared a lot of their classes with kids both younger and older than them, but they lived together in one of the dorm houses, like some kind of underaged flatshare with four boys, two girls and a monk. Peeping or other things just don't happen when said girls could very much kick your arse, or when someone like Minh seemed to know whenever you were up to mischief. They were like siblings among friends, for they knew more about one another, and that was a good thing. Harry never felt like hiding the marks of his mistreatment from his friends, and neither did they tattle.

Right now the six of them sat together in the main hall, each of them with their little eating table in front of them, lounging on soft cushions and chatting inbetween the bites. It was an open space, used for classes, meals, gatherings and also Gong Fu training for the smaller kids when it was too rainy or stormy outside. But open space also meant that the windows where open. Small linked seals protected them from harsch winds, rain and snow, and also insects, but not from the crisp cold. Which was why most tried to huddle a bit closer together until they could flee towards the heated classrooms or warm themselfs up with physical training.

The one who spoke scooted closer the moment he catched Harrys eyes. His name was Liwei, and while he was fourteen just like the newly discovered Boy-Who-Lived, he was several inches smaller. He was also a halfblood albeit not in a magical sense. His mother was chinese, his father was from Korea, and he surely was some kind of devilish imp. All angelic looking, sweet as they come, but the head full of mischief. He still sported a neat buzz-cut, something most teens at the school abandoned when they reached the quite magical age of 12.  
On Liweis other side sat Junjie. Where Liwei was kinda cute with his buzz-cut and small, soft features, Junjie was devastatingly beautiful - at least in Harrys eyes, and for most of the female population of the school too. As a kid he had been gangly and awkward, but puberty has been kind to the boy, and his sharp, angular features and chocolate brown eyes, mixed with hair that was mostly, but not fully, straight, he was the definition of a future heartthrob, looking a couple of years older than he really was. It was a shame - and the source of a lot of hilarity between the other five friends - that Junjie was painfully oblivious towards the attention he was getting from the female students.  
The fourth boy of the group was Chanming, who was similar in heigh to Harry and had short, dark brown hair and a gentle demeanor. He had been Harrys first friend, as he was a gentle and easygoing boy, but he was gentle and easygoing to everyone, which was why he was not Harrys best friend.  
That position was given to Bo. Bo sat opposite to Harry, displaying a mixture of exasperation and amusement for her friend. The reason why she was his best friend (just by a tiny bit) was their shared love for seals and runes and long hours of studying for that class. They had bonded fast enough, even if she did not share the same keen mind Harry had when it came to the subject, as she was rarely jealous. Bo was actually the most mature of the group, next to the gentle Chanming, and while she was not beautiful or cute like other girls, her demeanor had already charmed a lot of the younger boys.  
Between Bo and Chanming was the last of the six fourteen year olds - sweet and deadly Mei Mei. Seals were easy for Harry, but he was not a genius. Chanming and Liwei were good in Potions and Arithmancy, but certainly not the best in the school. Real prodigies were rare, especially in the isolated worlds of chinese magic schools, but Mei Mei was one of them - she was the star of Qíjī Zhī Jiā when it came to Gong Fu ever since she learned the first few stances and sets of motions, and was currently trained not only by Master Fu, but by Grandmaster Yi too. Her other studies suffered often under her dedication towards the martial arts - only Charms and Transfiguration, the classes in which they used the stances instead of wand movements, saved her from actually failing school.

" _That is easier said than done_ ", Harry finally answered, but he didn't push Liwei away. The closeness helped somewhat to calm his nerves, so his arm sneaked around the small teens shoulders in an automatic response. Most kids here were accustomed to platonic touches and cuddles. Harry had to learn that too, and had lost his shyness years ago with the people he felt comfortable with. With a sigh, Liwei snuggled closer, using the european kid to fend off the cold.

" _They won't come until morning drill is over. Master Fu will strangle you when you act like this in class._ " Liwei smirked and finished his bowl while the others were snickering. Master Huang Fu was one of the strictest Gong Fu instructors they had - after graduating himself, he had journeyed the country for years until he returned five years ago to settle down and teach the students. He was also one of those monks unimpressed by Harrys recent antics. The last couple of days since the boy had been informed of the letter, the young english boy had annoyed his friends and teachers up to the point that Minh had to sit him down and talk very sternly about things that could and could not be excused by the mere prospect of visitors. It had been Master Fu who had complained the loudest about Harrys mood, but he had also been the one to introduce the boy to calming exercises he had to do between breakfast and morning drill, lest the monk used him as his training partner (read: helpless dummy) again.

The reminder of _that_ memorable class had Harry snapping into focus again. He was still mortified enough, and hastened with his breakfast. The rest of the early morning went well enough after Liweis warning, but after the morning drill, when the teens left the ground for the younger kids and changed for their respective classes, anxiety once again tackled Harry - right now the british wizards should arrive. And he still had several classes to go to until he was allowed to meet them.

~~~ 

Had it not been for his own personal satisfaction to **finally** bring Harry Potter back to british soil, Severus would have turned around and walked back hours ago. He had, of course, known that magical transportations such as portkeys or a floo network were scarce in China and had mentally prepared for muggle transportation with Albus and Minerva (he had, in fact, informed both of them beforehand about muggle airplanes, cars and hiking), but he had not prepared for Black. For some reasons, Albus had not shared this little piece of information with Severus.  
He shouldn't have been so surprised, thought. After the whole mess with Peter Pettigrew had been sorted out and Black was once again a free man, the mutt had spent all his time and money into the search for his godson. Dozens of well paid witches and wizards have been roaming the east, and way too many owls had been sent out for precious information that noone had been able to provide. As far as Severus knew, Black had even waited for an answer of the elusive school Harry resided in before calling the search teams back. Of course he would demand to be there when Albus and his staff visit the boy.  
He still hated it, thought.

"If you don't shut up, I will stun you and leave you here", he practically growled at the shaggy haired man when Black complained. Again. After they had arrived in Hong Kong per international portkey, the recent Lord Black had felt the need to voice his disapproval every time he found the speed of muggle transportation lacking. The wait before they could board the airplane? Wasted time. The actual flight time and the check-out? Too slow. The car ride to their Inn in Sanwangzhuang, one of the small cities next to Mount Song where the school was located? Endless complains about traffic and poor road maintenance. Staying in the Inn for the night, because it was very late and very dark? Why, who needs sleep! If it hadn't been for the fact that Black had yet to insult Severus directly, the Potions Master would have hexed him long ago.

"I just can't see why we have to _walk_ all the way up there", came the murmured answer back, but he did, indeed, shut up. For the next few minutes. Severus didn't even try to explain yet again why portkeys were practically nonexistend in Chinas more remote regions, and heavily regulated and overseen by the small government located in Hong Kong for the rest of the country. That was also why one could only enter the country per portkey, if said portkey was headed for Hong Kong itself.  
Not that the mutt would suddelny understand this now when he had completely ignored the last two times Severus and Albus had talked about the weird regulations and the fact that they would have to walk at some point until they reached Qíjī Zhī Jiā.

They had been given a time and a location to meet up with one of the monks who would then lead them all the way through the wards of the school itself. Severus recognized the location - it was quite a famous place in this country from a muggles perspective, as it was very close to the original Shaolin temple, and he suspected that duo to the very lax regulations regarding the Statute of Secrecy in Asia that both the muggle and the magic school worked closely together.

The potions master glanced towards the Headmaster and Minerva. Both were much older than him or Black, and yet they had neither complained nor faltered in front of the somewhat daunting hike up the mountain. They had braved the first stretch with the help of something called a Rickshaw (he would forever treasure Minervas gobsmacked face when she learned that these things were pulled by an elderly muggle), but when the narrow path became too steep, they were forced to walk. Albus was already at his second bag of sweets he had bought in a small village right on foot of the mountains, but otherwise seemed to be in good health. That said, his muggle clothing was just as colourful as his usual robes - a three-piece suit made from mauve velvet that had drawn the attention of positively every muggle they had come across during their trip. Minerva was a little out of breath, but infinitely better dressed then the old coot. Black practically vibrated with energy, undoubtly fueled by the prospect of finally meeting his godson, and dressed like a muggle teen worshipping one of those dreadful rock bands, clad in dark jeans, a T-shirt and a leather jacket from 1976.

Severus allowed himself to shudder a bit in righteous disgust. Only him and Minerva had chosen to dress in a sensible way. His suit might have been a bit outdated, but it was held in a monochromatic dusty black, with a dark grey button-down shirt and black tie, and he applaused Minervas choice of wearing a stern and serious combination of a white blouse and a long, black skirt combined with a long, dark blue cardigan against the cold of the morning (the mutt had just applied a few heating charms). He should have demanded a dresscode. They were sort of representing british wizardkind here, and half of their group were dressed either like the colourblind or rebellious preteens.

Just as he contemplated about his chances of transfiguring the Headmasters clothes into a more sensible colour without the old man noticing, someone rounded the next corner of the stony and steep path up the mountainside. Severus stopped and examined the stranger with narrowed eyes. Looking just as old as Dumbledore himself, the man radiated the aura of the old and wise. His hair and beard where nowwhere near as long as Albus liked to keep his, but just as white, and his tanned skin showed many wrinkles on his face. His body, though, showed none of his age. Clad in grey tinged linen that reminded him of the muggle monks nearby, he stood tall and strong, arms clasped behind his back.

The monk studied the group in front of him for a view moments, but before any of them could say something, he suddenly smiled broadly and bowed in a manner of greeting. "Welcome. You must be our guests from Britain?" His voice was deep, his english strongly accented. The serious expression melted away with the smile, and his dark eyes showed gentle amusement. Severus scowled - another coot with twinkling eyes, as if Albus wasn't enough. Better take the lead lest the Headmaster started to share his sweets with this man.

"That we are. These are Headmaster Albus Dumbledore and Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Sirius Lord Black of the Noble and Ancient House of Black" He managed not to grimace when he waved his hand towards said man. "and myself, Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master of Hogwarts. I presume you are our escort?" Each of them inclined their heads politely as they were introduced, but Severus did not pay them any attention as he kept his eyes fixed on the stranger in front of him. And just as he feared, the monks eyes mirrowed the mirth that was seen far too often to be healthy in Albus blue orbs.

"I am honoured to meet such esteemed guests. My name is Shen Yi, Grandmaster of Qíjī Zhī Jiā." Out of the corner of his eyes, Severus noticed how Minervas posture stiffened. He could hardly blame her - his own eyebrows had rissen of their own accord when he realized just _who_ was standing in front of them. No wonder he had seen a likeness between the monk and Dumbledore. Maybe all Headmasters of magical schools were in possession of The Twinkle. He should be glad that the Grandmaster had yet to display the same horrible choices regarding his wardrobe. Chancing a glance sideways, his scowl deepened. Albus was beaming at the man. At least the mutt seemed to be unfazed by the presence of the Grandmaster himself and radiated his usual impacience.  
Focusing his attention back towards the Grandmaster, Severus found that said man was already looking at him, giving the Potions Master the opportunity to seize the position of spokesperson of their group. Before anyone (read: Black) could so much as open their mouths he lowered his head in a formal fashion, face blank and eyes guarded. "The honour is entirely ours, Grandmaster. And even though the circumstances of our meeting are most unfortunate, please be reassured that we nonetheless welcome this opportunity to meet with your young charge." He kept his voice even, albeit a bit sharp as was his nature, but the old monk did not seem to be miffed by this. There was a small smile on his lips, and he too bowed his head for each of them, before gesturing to his left.

"If you would follow me then. I will take you to our wards. You are informed of our security oaths?"

Said oaths had already been discussed in the correspondence between the two Headmasters - like Hogwarts, the chinese school kept itself private. The location however was not hidden like the scottish castle - duo to its muggle counterpart, one could easily find the wards that kept outsiders firmly out. The wards were old - older than those at Hogwarts, as was the temple. Severus could feel the hum against his skin when they reached the outer border, and his eyes fell onto one of the dozens of ancient wardstones that indicated the perimeter. They were small - at least the part that struck out of the natural stone of the mountain area - and highly polished. A complicated and elegant seal had been painted on the flattened surface. It looked not older than a few years, but he had done his research and knew that the wardstones of this school had been the same for over fifteen hundred years. For a few moments, he mourned that he had never been interested in Runes, and therefore had eschewed the subject back at school. He comforted himself with the knowledge that even if he had studied Ancient Runes, the exotic seals of the eastern magical world had still been far out of his reach of understanding. He settled with memorising the pattern. Maybe Professor Babbling, who teaches the subject in Hogwarts, would appreciate a memory.

After they had taken their oaths not to reveal the secrets of the school, nor to harm the structure nor the dwellers of the school and, most importantly, not to take any student with them by any kind of force, the wards hummed more softly, almost welcoming, and they were able to past. The moment they stepped into the warded place, the temperature changed mildly. It was still rather fresh, but Severus likened it more to an early spring morning than the sharper autumn they had left behind. The rickety small pathway smoothened out and widened out so that the group could easily walk next to each other, instead of being force to cluster together. Old plum trees grew on each side of the path, full in bloom. They were in a time bubble, one that had catched a pleasant spring day centuries ago and held onto it, despise the changing seasons beyond the wards. He heard Albus murmur next to him, and he did not need to look at the old man to know that the Headmaster was as surprised as Severus. Time bubbles were very rare all over the world, as the art to create them had long been forgotten. Only a handful of places existed throughout the world, the most famous located in North America where a tribe lived in a perpetual, everlasting late summer.

"Beautiful, yes? It is one of our secrets, and one that mustn't leave this place. We are lucky that we are not known in the world." The Grandmaster had a fond look on his face, softening the edges of his sharp eyes. They continued to follow him up the path until they reached the peak of the incline. Even Black was now muted, eyes wide in awe. And they grew even more when the little group looked onto what was Qíjī Zhī Jiā.

Nestled in a narrow valley inbetween the mountain folds and climbing up and down a few stone terraces, stood a multitude of buildings. The faint hue of blue-green grass matched the darker lacquered shingles of the whitewashed structures. Doors and windows were artfully crafted, the wood so old, the former reddish-brown plumtree was now closer to black. Dominating the smaller buildings was a large temple. Two stories high, the front had been craftily made from the same wood that made up the windows of the lesser structures. Intricate patterns, scenes and deities had been carved into it, and it seemed that the building itself reached far into the mountain as the temple stood right against the face of the rock behind it. Behind some of the smaller houses petite gardens could be seen. Smacks of colours indicated flowers or flowering herbs, though the plum trees, old and rickety and full of white or pink petals, where everywhere. In the middle of the tiny settlement was an open space, the floor almost as white as the plum blossoms. Despite the location of the school, it seemed that the clear sunlight of an early morning had no problems to illuminate a group of small children that stood in formation on said space.

"We seem to have just arrived for the morning drill of our youngest charges. Harry will be ready to meet with you at lunch as planned, so we have plenty of time to explore the temple."

Severus could hear the twitching of Blacks face when the Grandmaster announced the plans he and Albus had forged inbetween letters. It seemed that while Albus had told Minerva and him that they would have the honour to tour the grounds of the school, he had failed to tell the young Lord about this questionable pleasure.

"We won't see him right now?" Alas, he had started to whine again. Why the Headmaster could not understand Severus ongoing distaste for the manchild, he did not know. And he did not feel the need to curb his tongue when it came to his childhood nemesis.  
"You very well know that we do not want to disturb the schedules of the school whilst we visit, Black. We could have waited for the proper time in our current lodgings, yet it was you who had no patience in the first place. Thus, we were allowed to arrive early, and have the chance to occupy ourselves." For a second he mourned his need to keep it civil at least with his words, if not his tone. He was rewarded with an angry glare of the mutt (and one disappointed sigh from Dumbledore, which he swiftly ignored). It was almost good enough to make up for his own impatience for the wait. Even though he never said it out aloud, he was eager to see for himself that Harry was safe and happy; this, he owed the boys late mother, after he had failed her so much by trusting Albus decisions regarding the last Potter.

To his neverending disappointment though, the glare only lasted for seconds before the gaunt face of Black morphed into sickening understanding. This happened far too often for Severus taste. While he was relatively sure that Black still held a dislike towards the Potions Master, the mutt always curbed any anger towards him before it came to verbal blows. For some gryffindorish reason, the Lord had decided to try and befriend the sour man, much to Severus horror, after Albus (the meddling old coot) had told Black all about the summers spent in China. Severus still wished he had been there just so to stop the tale all together.

While silently berating the irritating mutt, Severus noticed the amused glance the Grandmaster sent both men. His lips curled into a shadow of a sneer, before his face yet again adopted a carefully blank mask. The group finally travelled down the path towards the training grounds. High pitched voices could be heard even before they reached the first building - it was a low structure, roughly shaped like the letter L, with a medium sized garden next and behind it. Drawing nearer, the Potions Master could see how small the children still were. Clad in sandcoloured robes like the Grandmaster himself, the children let out sharp shouts and moved in precision, imitating one of the bald adults. Teachers, he guessed. Severus was aware of martial arts, as he had travelled this part of Asia for long summer months and had not been able to escape this part of the culture. He knew that it was essential for those who could not afford a wand, or could not find one that was both of good quality and compatible to their magical core, lest they explode. It still startled him a bit to see these tiny humans in a fighting stance, bodies poised, hands clenched to miniature fists. Chancing a glance to the side, he noticed that while Albus seemed curious, both Minerva and Sirius where shocked by this display, especially when, with the next shout, eleven little legs shot up with more speed and flexibility than the whole current student body of Hogwarts combined, Quidditch teams excluded.

"How old are they?" Of course Minerva would ask that. He stiffled a snort, shifting his gaze back towards the children which were going through something akin to a drill and busily breaking into a sweat. They did not even look up towards the four strangers and their Grandmaster, but that could be because the teacher demonstrating the movements had the air of a man like Severus himself around him - one that would not tolerate any kind of disruption in class.

"These are our youngest. Ranging from five to eight at the moment. We differ both in age groups and performance in classes. This is the beginner class of Gong Fu. Every morning our students will start the day with breakfast and then the drill before going to their classes." Left and right from the training ground where larger buildings with big open windows to let as much light in it as possible. The higher terraces had smaller structures on them, snug against the mountain faces and with window shutters and drying clothing inbetween. Classrooms and dorms, maybe? He could make out one building that held chickens in the far corner, and the hint of a bigger garden up the terraces. Enough to lessen the cost of food. Judging the size of this class, there should only be a forth of the students here that Hogwarts houses, but he saw many more adults on their merry way around, most of which had bald heads regardless of their age.

After a few minutes of watching the small kids working out, the group swiftly moved on and passed the classroom buildings. They did not see Harry, but other children between the ages six and eighteen in different classes with multiple teachers. True to the Grandmasters words, the classes were not divided solely by age. Though most groups consisted of children close in age, occasionally a noticeable older or younger child could be seen amongst the others. There were no fixed classes like in Hogwarts - children either advanced in their subject fast or slowly, the Grandmaster explained. Severus listened with one ear when Yi told them of a prodigy in the physical classes, a girl of fourteen who trained with the adults instead of her peers, while just staying with her age group in Charms. Most of her other subjects, however, were severely neglected by the girl and thus she had to attend to those classes with children about two to three years younger than her.

They made their rounds between the different buildings. Just as he had previously guessed, the upper houses were small dormitories. While classes were divided mostly by performance, children of the same age would house together during their educational stay, chaperoned by one of the monks regardless of their occupation. Not all of the adults present at the school were teachers. A lot of the monks were just that, and tended to the temple and the gardens as well as honing their Gong Fu during the day. Severus was surprised that the actual workload of maintaining the temple and the surrounding buildings were shared with the students. They had to not only clean their own houses, but had their chores that included gardening, cleaning, sweeping, cooking and tending to the lifestock. The biggest surprise though was that the older students could attend muggle schooling as electives, and that those subjects were not teached by the monks up in the mountain, but by actual muggles in the city below.

The lively discussion about the merits and flaws of this (Severus inwardly approved, but Minerva thought that the risk of exposure was far too high) accompanied the group towards the main temple building when they completed the round. The Potions Master took a few moments to wonder at the carvings of the wooden panels as they entered the Main Hall in which, a couple hours ago, the students had their breakfast. Now the Hall was empty, the little black lacquered tables neatly stacked at one side. They followed the Grandmaster towards a hallway that led from the Main Hall deeper into the temple and towards a staircase. Magical windows provided the hallways and rooms beyond the front with merry sunlight and the smell of blossoms and crisp mountain air as they climbed upwards and back to the front. This part of the school lacked the children they had seen in the classroom buildings, and the atmosphere was of a more sombre nature.

This was also due to the fact that the monks they saw never exchanged actual words with them - each bowed in greeting towards the strangers, which they answered in kind, and would then hurry along again into the depths of the temple. The faint smell of incence and the muttering sound of prayer could be heard, but Severus could not say from where exactly, just that they moved away again the moment they headed back to the front of the temple.

At least, they reached a pair of wooden double doors, painted in a rich, honeybrown colour with an intricate, golden seal smack in the middle. A young man with a high bound, traditional looking bun and dark brown, slanted eyes stood next to it. The man had watched the group as soon as they had entered the hallway leading towards the double doors, and bowed deep when they reached him. He was wearing the same airy uniform they have already seen on students and teachers alike, but his were of a soft teal colour, matching the dyed leather strip holding up his pitch black hair. He was one of the few adults who has kept it, Severus noted while he examined the young man. He was rather attractive with his sharp features and distinctive eyebrows. Despite his age (for he could be no older than twenty-five) he already had visible laugh lines around his eyes, although right now his expression was quite serious and guarded.

The man nodded towards the Grandmaster before bowing stiffly in greeting before the visitors, and opened the double doors which revealed an elongated room with not magical, but actual windows which overlooked the training grounds had a stunning view of the settlement in general. During their tour of the grounds, time has passed pleasantly fast, despite the mutterings of Lord Black, and now it was nearing lunch time, with the sun directly shining from above. The room was held in rich colours, like most of the temple decorated with carvings and delicate paintings depicting historical and maybe fantastical scenes of times long gone. The floor was the same reddish-brown parquet that the Main Hall used, albeit less worn. The left wall was covered in shelves which held a multidute of books and silk-tied scrolls, precious stones and small stone tablets. Little tidbits and figurines littered the lower shelves, but other than that, only one other furniture rained surpreme in what had to be the office of the Grandmaster - an impressive desk facing from the middle window which looked like it had been carved out of one, gigantic piece of wood. It had been lacquered like most furniture they had come across, so Severus could not say what kind of wood it had been made of. Instead of normal table legs, a chinese dragon with their absurdly long bodies, painted in emerald green scales and rich gold details, coiled playfully beneath the table top until it's head ended up facing any visitor, face drawn into a fierce snarl that showed polished fangs and a long tongue.  
On the wall behind the desk, next to the beautiful carved window, two very plain pictures had been hanged up. The paper was still crisp and white (he could sense the tickling of an old preservation charm), and each showed a different, simple chinese character, artfully drawn onto the paper.

"Please, take a seat. We should address a few topics here before lunch. _Yuen, please inform Minh that we have arrived and bring some tea._ "

Severus fingers twitched, eager to grab his wand and perform a translation spell, but these were fickle at best, and they had not brought the much more precise translation artefacts with them - little runic devices, mostly in the form of a neclace or an earring, which provided the carrier with the ability to talk and understand a specific mundane language and a few magical ones. He watched the younger male bow and take his leave before he seated himself in front of the large desk like his companions. There were, however, two more empty chairs, both next to the Grandmaster who had seated himself behind the dragon. _Two more to come then. I hope this does not take too much time, Black looks ready to bolt and search for Harry himself._ He felt the same urge, albeit only faintly, but the serious expression of the Grandmaster as he took his place made him curious. There was likely to be suspicion towards them, regardless how well Yi and Albus had interacted, and Blacks behaviour on the tour had not helped these suspicions to dissolve. The oaths they had to take in order to enter this place were telling enough.

Only a few minutes spent with small talk between Albus, Minerva and Yi passed until the doors opened again. The young man entered with a tray of cups and a serving of tea, and with him came an older man, one of the monks. He was heavyset and of medium size, with a round, jovial face. He seemed to be around Severus age, give or take a couple of years, and unlike the other male had a content smile on his face which mirrored in his dark eyes. He greeted the visitors with a bow as was custom here and took his seat to the Grandmasters right while the younger male served the tea playing mother.

"Now, we have a few introductions to do. Please meet Minh, one of our resident monks, and Yuen, our Calligraphy and Seals teacher. Both are here because they had a heavy hand in raising young Harry with Minh as his surrogate father." At this, not only Severus sat up more attentively. The mutt nearly jumped out of his seat, narrowing his eyes on the monk who had hardly reacted besides smiling more welcoming towards Lord Black. The jealousy was evident on Sirius pale face, grey eyes sharp and judging. Albus placed a calming hand onto his shoulder, causing Sirius to breath out and relax a tiny bit. He closed his eyes and shook his head in a doglike manner, before pinning Minh with his eyes again. Less judging this time, and more contemplating, head tilted sideways.

The young one, Yuen, had not reacted as calm as the monk or the Grandmaster. He too sat rigid when Sirius jumped, arms crossed firmly in front of his chest and sending accusing glances towards the Lord. He made to speak up, but he was swiftly interrupted by Yi in an entirely fake cheery manner.

"And these are our honoured guests. Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, Transfiguration Mistress Minerva McMonagall, Potions Master Severus Snape and Lord Sirius Black, Harrys godfather."  
"And a fine godfather he is, I'm sure." The words hung in the air like the sharp tip of a sword. Yuens voice was heavy accented and could be described as pleasant and soft, had it not been for the sharp edge of his tongue and the accusation in his words.

~~~

He knew this was a low blow. After all, Yuen had an exact understanding just how hard it was to navigate a country so divided as magical China. It was entirely plausible that a child could have gone missing just to never be found again until said child emerged from the bowels of the magical settlements and miniature governments. He had, however, not forgotten the state of Zhengi, lovable, precious little brother, in which they had found him. The long nights of nightterrors and tears, the shy and submissive behaviour that could cut through heartstrings like the edge of a knife. How his little face lit up with the smallest of pleasures like the gifting of a candy, or a demonstration of magic. How diligently he had learned his words and later his seals, something that would, over the years, bring the two brothers even closer together. No, he had not forgotten the early years of healing.

His eyes were fixed on Black. The young Lord with his rebellious wardrobe and his impatient behaviour had stared at Minh like the monk had stolen the child from his loving arms back then. He should be thankful instead, for Minh had done so much more for Zhengi than Yuen ever could. At least, this judging stare was gone now with Yuens own steely words.

The flinch of said Lord was a surprise though. Satisfaction roused its head inside the Seals master when he watched the pale face of the Lord crumple, grey eyes suddenly filled with a curious mix of grief, guilt and self-loathing. He had watched the little group tour across the settlement, had watched their interactions and behaviour, and had seen the man strutt around, hardly interested in anything after the first surprise of the Time Bubble had passed. Like Minh, Yuen had tried to research the names of their visitors before their arrival, and while he had been unable to find much about the newest Lord of the House Black, he knew that the Black family had always been high up in Wizarding Britain when it came to power, influence and wealth. None of which the young Lord had seemed to utilize for his precious godson. He felt vindictive, thinking about that, and not a bit guilty about the low blow he had dealt.

Surprisingly enough, it was the Potions Master who answered Yuens cutting words with his own sharp tongue.

"Loath I am to admit this, but Lord Black has spent nearly every minute of his newly gained freedom in search for his godson instead of healing. I am sure that concessions can be made regarding his behaviour, after all, it is hard to remember any kind of proper decorum after spending twelve years in Azkaban, especially if one is innocent of the accused crime."

And Yuen knew this was the payback. Every word perfectly civil, tone calm and cold. Rather than a blade this was a needle coated in venom, growing stronger over time. The lack of reaction from Minh and the Grandmaster showed that at least they had known this, and rather than warn him they had let him run his tongue only to be reprimanded later by the dark Professor. Where he had felt vindictive and righteous for his accusation, he was left feeling guilty on his own, especially when the pained expression didn't left Lord Blacks eyes. He remembered his own history lessons, and the tales of the barbaric institution called Azkaban. As a child, the stories of a prison guarded by Dementores had left him trembling, and now that he actually took his time to examine the young Lord, he could see the shadows under the haunted eyes, the gauntness of his face. His thin body was suddenly not a fashion statement, but the lack of care after his ordeal, the old muggle clothing an anchor for his sanity, reminding him of times before the imprisonment. Twelve years, and only recently out of prison. Zhengi had only been a year old then.  
Swallowing, he bowed before Black and Snape. "My apologies. This, I had not known." He could not offer more, especially when Black let out a bark of a laughter, with no mirth at all.

"Don't. You are right, you know?" He send Snape a fond look, but even this was twisted into something more bitter. "Thanks though, Snape. But it was my own damn fault. Had I not hunted down the rat..." His voice grew hoarse. This, then, was a topic that still haunted him, and Yuen was more than attentive. Next to him, the Grandmaster too sat up a bit more. "The thing is, I had fucked up and Harry paid the price, so... I really have no right to... Look."  
Black again looked at Minh, leaning forward and ignoring the indignant sound of McMonagall for his vocabulary. "Look. I hate this. I hate that he did not grew up happy and content in Britain, and I hate it that he is not a student at Hogwarts, like his parents have been, like it was supposed to be. But it's not your fault, and you helped him, especially after... after the Dursleys." Here, his voice resembled the growl of an angry dog. The resentment in his eyes was shortly mimiced by both the Transfiguration and the Potions Professors. The Headmaster, however, had a strangely guilty expression, mingled with sadness and regret. "So, for all it's worth, thank you. It's hard for me, I want to take him back and to hear that someone else did my job, has been a father for him when I could not, is really... strange. And upsetting."

He took the time to properly breath in, and again shook his head vehemently, as if to chase away his negative feelings. They were still there, plainly visible in his eyes, but his face relaxed somewhat. Yuen looked to his side and saw Minh leaning forward, a tender expression on his round, friendly face. He had always been so much more understanding than Yuen was to this situation in the last few days, and suddenly the younger male was thankful for that, feeling just as wrecked as Lord Black looked.

"The past is something we cannot change. You should not be guilty about missed chances, especially when most of what happened was pure happenstance. He came to us, and we did our best to raise him, and we hope that we have succeeded. You will soon meet him and can make your own judgement of this." He gave the Lord a smile while clasping his hands over his stomach, leaning back again for greater comfort. "And while he may see our temple as his home, and us as his family, he was very excited to meet you all today. He expressed his eagerness to properly get to know you, as you all were friends with his parents?"

The last part was a question, delivered with raised eyebrows. Yuen again watched the visitors closely, and while Lord Black, McMonagall and the Headmaster all nodded quickly, it took the Potions Master a moment before he nodded once, with his blank mask back into place.

"We would still like to clear one particular point", the Grandmaster buttet in, sipping his still hot herbal tea. His gaze lingered at the Headmaster, and Yuen knew that Yi had catched the guilty look on the old mans face when Black had mentioned the Dursleys. Those people only had been briefly mentioned in the letters. The maternal aunt and her husband had been the guardians of Harry before they had found him. Aunt Tuni and Uncle Vern, the sources of many a nightmare the small boy had suffered in his early years. As if the Grandmaster had listened to his thoughts, his expression became again quite serious.

"I remember that you mentioned them being in prison for what they had done to our charge, Headmaster. What was not mentioned, however, was why young Harry has been placed with them? We know not much about the past wars in other countries, but we understand that Harrys parents had died the same night that your late Dark Lord met the same fate. The boy was hailed as Britains saviour, and had a godfather to assume the role as surrogate father." Here he gestured towards Sirius, who again slumped a bit in posture at the gentle reminder that he had not been there for his godson. Yuen saw the sadness again creeping into the brilliant blue eyes of the foreign Headmaster, who bowed his head at these words.

"Alas, this was one of my greater failings I have made. I can only say that at that time, it had seem to be the best place for young Harry. They were his family, after all, and while I knew that Petunia had been estranged from her sister, being a muggle herself, I had high hopes for her to overcome her contempt when faced with her nephew." He paused at that, before regaining his bearings. "You must understand that when Lord Voldemort died..." And was it not curious how at least McMonagall still flinched at that name? "...his followers still roamed the country. Many expressed their desire to take revenge for their leader by killing the boy. Other families had been similarly targeted after his fall. More troubling were those that wanted to take the boy in and raise him as the new Dark Lord. There was great confusion who was and was not a willing member of his forces, many claiming to have been forced or charmed to obey his wishes. Sirius had been imprisoned and was beliefed to be a traitor - another grave mistake made in a dire time -, and his next magical relatives with the best chance to gain guardianship for the boy were those who had successfully claimed to have been under the Imperio. Them I could not trust, so I searched for another place to keep Harry safe. Away from magical Britain and his sudden fame and those who would seek to harm him. It was then that I noticed the trace of a charm on the boy - blood magic, woven by his mother to protect him. So I took him to her sister, where I was able to draw from the protection he was given and create powerful blood wards. There, Voldemorts followers could not touch him as long as he called the place his home." Again he paused, and Yuen was surprised when he saw tears gleaming in his eyes. Looking around he noticed a new understanding in Minh and Yi, and a similar sadness in McMonagalls and Blacks eyes. Only the Potions Master seemed detached by this story, but the young man assumed that the dark man was simply hiding his feelings behind his flawless mask.

"But why was the abuse never noticed?" Yis words were oddly gentle, but right now even Yuen saw the anguish of their visitors. They had not known then. How painful it must have been, to learn that the boy was lost

"I placed a good friend of mine in the neighbourhood. Petunia was against magical contact until Harry was to go to Hogwarts. She wanted to raise him as a muggle, like his mother, and I agreed to it. Mrs Figgs was a Squib herself, and she reported to me about Harrys wellbeing. I never visited him myself - I could hardly bear to leave him there. He was a precious child, and had I visited him again in his early childhood, I would have been tempted to steal him away. And that, I believed, was not safe enough." Dumbledore sighed heavily. "Her reports never caused any worry for me. Surely, she stated that the Dursleys favored their own son, and that Harry was starting chores a tad early for her liking, but other than that she was content with the situation, and I trusted her. When Harry vanished, I was only noticed a couple months after that, when the trail of his accidential apparition was long cold. Professors McMonagall and Snape went to interview the family, and that was when we saw how they have treated their nephew."  
His blue eyes had been soft from the grief, but now they sharpened with an icy glint in them. "Rest assured, they at least got what they deserve. Their own boy had been horribly overfed and spoiled beyond beliefe - two children really that had to suffer very different abuse. They are now serving time in jail, and the boy had been adopted some years ago and seems fine, just like Harry." 

~~~

When they finally stepped out of the office again, Severus felt reliefed that this, at least, was over. Well, the boy himself had to be told about his dogfather and the circumstances under which he had been given to the Dursleys, but he was content to let Albus and Black fill him in - he felt he had done enough already, with how he had argued for the mutt when the Seals Master saw fit to cut into the Lord. Severus himself had been surprised when he had opened his mouth to fire right back when it was clear that Black would not do so. _Typical_ , he sneered inwardly while being escorted outside of the temple again. _The only time he shuts up, it's when he should not._

He idly noticed that they were taken the same way back that they had taken before, and this time he spared a few moments to admire some of the art that was sparsely displayed in the hallways of the temple. They were still a bit early for lunch, when they were supposed to finally meet Harry, and he had to distract himself from the anticipation that had built itself up since Halloween. For nine years, the Potions Master had spent his free time almost solely for his search. Not that he had much free time, as a Potions Master in a magical school had often times more duties than other Professors, let alone a Head of House. Still, he had spent long weeks every year in this country, cursing and admiring the cultural differences at the same time. When they reached the Main Hall, he saw a few diligent students arranging the seating pillows and tables in neat lines. In a more secluded corner of the Hall, aside from the main bulk where the students would soon sit and eat, a diner table had been set, surrounded by chairs for the guests to sit on.

Firmly ignoring his growing anxiety (was Harry truly the happy child these foreigners had painted him? Would he welcome the Britains, or would he only be interested in Black, seing that he was his godfather?) Severus faced the open doors that would lead them outside. In the office he had vaguely observed that another class of teenagers had started a lesson on the training ground, but unlike with the small children, he could hear no shouts. Only one voice drifted into the Hall through the open doors, a male, strong, adult voice.

It was when they walked down the few steps in front of the temple that Severus noticed the age of the teens. Standing in neat rows were roughly a dozen children from thirteen to fifteen, bodies shifted in firm stances, hands held in front of their chests and muscles strained. The sun had gained strengh while they had been sitting in the cool office, and the teens were already sweaty after half a days work of classes. In front of them was a man, giving verbal instructions to his students. Like Yuen, he had long, inky black hair. Unlike him, it was not nearly as tidy, but was tied up in a messy ponytail. He was the only one facing the adults on the stairs, but he gave no sign that he had seen the visitors or even his Master and kept his eyes solely on his charges.

" _Again!_ " The shout was met with swift movements. Shifting out of their stances, the students moved in complicated choreography, stomping their right feet onto the dusty ground and rotating their arms in a floral pattern. Magic swirled almost tangible through the air, and a vague blue aura manifested itself around most of the students. Two of the younger ones had only a short flicker around them and were made to repeat the charm, which Severus identified as some sort of Protego.

"This is truly inspiring", he heard Albus next to him saying. But the answer, if given, was inaudible for the Potions Master - the sound of a gong suddenly filled the valley and the students relaxed, releasing the potent magic they had shielded themselves with. In unison they bowed, a choir of young voices exchanging pleasentries with their stern teacher, and turned around, slowly breaking out of their formation. He could hear chatter and eager laughter, probably because of the meal that awaited them, but his own body was far from relaxation. He stood as rigid as one of the plum trees, and he knew that he was not the only one. Knew it, because he heard soft gaspes next to him.

And when one of the flushed, happy faces turned upwards, when brilliant green eyes widened and met his, Severus Snapes thoughts just flew away until only one remained.

_Harry._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Words:** 9048
> 
> Junjie will be played by **Chen Kun** from the movie Flying Swords of Dragon Gate.  
>  Liwei will be played by **Ji Sung**.  
>  Chanming will be played by **Kim Bum**.  
>  Mei Mei will be played by **Xu Ting**.  
>  Bo will be played by **Li Jia**.
> 
> Huang Fu (Monk) will be played by **San Siu Lam Zi** from the (so fitting...) Shaolin.
> 
> Next time there will be lunch and some reactions from the Hogwarts students. How have they fared after Halloween?


End file.
